


A Grain of Sand

by Superfan8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - No Smaug, Angst, Bottom Harry, Dimension Travel, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Harry, Healer Harry, King Thorin, M/M, Mpreg, Possessive Behavior, Protective Thorin, Rare Pairings, Top Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfan8/pseuds/Superfan8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insulting a dwarf hadn’t been the smartest thing Harry had ever done. Cursed, he wakes up after his death as Harry Potter in a short and stout body. Living in an alien world, Harry has to adjust to his new body, stupid and crazy traditions, and all the while he has to deal with having the sole attention of the King under the Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Somehow, he couldn’t exactly remember what drove him to do it. Harry had made a terrible, horrible, stupid mistake. With him being famous for his courage, good heart, and his ability to be compassionate towards all beings, how could it have come to this?

He was known all over the magical world for being the most courageous wizard of all time. People and creatures alike wanted to thank him and honour him and Harry, who had never disappointed or turned anyone down, wouldn’t even deny them this.

Harry was a humble man; he modestly received the gratitude from the magical folks but never wanted to stand in the spotlight. He would turn up to special events, made in his honour and gratefully thank the people who applauded him. He would kiss the new born babies and shake every extended hand. 

But in the end even the most patient person would have had enough. It happened on a stupid and terrible day, the great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, lost his control. It just so unfortunately occurred that he directed his anger towards a particular innocent bystander. Many years in the future, it would be known to have been a very stupid decision.

::::::::::

After Voldemort’s defeat, Harry had experienced great personal success in his life; he felt freer than ever before. He didn’t have a murderer hunting after him, he didn’t have Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, The Ministry, and his relatives telling him what to do, where to go, or not to be. Without the constant stress Voldemort had provided, Harry had new energy, both physically and mentally, to study, sleep, eat, and live.

_“Harry Potter, you have, after your breakup with Ginny Weasley, been named the most desired bachelor in the wizard community of Britain. But how are you coping with being replaced at Ginny Weasley’s arm with a taller, more masculine man? Do you feel a blow to your male pride or do your money, fame, and fans make up for the loss?”_

The press was the only enemy he had left. The Daily Prophet had even throughout his time at Hogwarts tried to make his life a living hell. The journalists’ comments were biting, harsh, and downright full of spite; they wanted a reaction, something to pin on him, a flaw. It was tough but that was life, the wizarding population wanted to know all about their saviour and the media picked up on that.

All Harry wanted was a peaceful life and he didn’t like discussing his private matters so the media had difficulties delivering information on demand, it was only natural that they grew aggressive.  

Harry had often been questioned on his masculinity and his sexuality when presented to the press, because of his lithe body. In his earlier years at Hogwarts this hadn’t been a problem. He had always believed he would grow taller and broader like his father but as the years moved on and he came into adulthood, it would appear that it was not meant to be.

He was small and thin some would even say that the perfect way to describe him was petite and pretty. Seeing the guys from his Hogwarts years grow into adulthood, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ron, hell even Malfoy could be seen as great specimens of the ideal man while he just looked like a bloody girl! As a principle, he kept his hair short he wouldn’t have anyone mistaking him for a girl.

Whether he looked like a girl or not, women still wanted him for his money and fame so did the men but for the men there was a bonus in catching him. The thought of dominating Harry Potter in bed was beyond appealing and the idea of conquering the powerful wizard’s lithe body was an erotic thought.  

Harry didn’t even try searching for love outside his friends and acquaintances from Hogwarts. Since the beginning of his horcrux hunt he had loved Ginny and after the final battle he still loved Ginny. Though, as their relationship progressed it became obvious for Harry, fairly quickly, that his feelings didn’t go beyond friendship. For a while he pretended that everything was okay but Ginny had never been stupid and was known by the professors of Hogwarts for being a bright, talented witch so she wasn’t fooled for long.

Ginny chose to keep up appearance as Harry’s sweetheart for Harry’s sake and in the hope that his feelings for her would be ignited. Their pretend relationship had dulled the rumours of Harry being a homosexual but his feelings for Ginny never ignited and the relationship fell apart after five years. 

After the breakup the reporters were back with a taste for blood and questions sprang anew.  

_“Mr. Potter, do you think you are to blame for the ruined relationship between yourself and Ginevra because you weren’t man enough for the job?”_

_“Are you traumatized after the war with feelings of being hunted, would it not be easier admitting your need for another man’s protection?”_

As one could imagine, Harry soon became tired and irritated by these annoying, silly questions to the point where he didn’t even bother denying their accusations.

And so on a day in his 24th year of life, he made a mistake that would change his destiny.

::::::::::

Harry could scarcely recall what happened that night. He remembered that he was invited to the annual party to celebrate the victory of the war. He had received his invitation by owl a month before the party was to take place. As was tradition, every magical being was invited to take part in the celebration of Voldemort’s demise.

The clean smell in the air was a scent he was rather familiar with and the first indicator that he was in the hospital. Blinking and trying to open his eyes, Harry felt the tiny bits of sand stick to his eyelashes. Blinking some more, he finally saw the well-lit, white hospital room. Hermione’s worried face came into view and he opened his mouth, ready to ask what had happened and why he was here when Hermione beat him to it.

“Harry, are you alright? We were all so worried when you went out cold, how do feel?” Hermione didn’t even wait for a replay before she hugged the life out of him and concernedly stroked his forehead.

Being unable to move his face or do much in his sitting position while Hermione continue to hug him, Harry turned his questioning eyes towards Ron.

“Don’t you remember what happened, mate?”  

At the party, he could recall standing in the ballroom trying to avoid being cornered by Rita Skeeter, but he was unsuccessful. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what was said between them but suddenly… “I remember now, the dwarf.”

Trying to sit up straight, he pried Hermione of off him. “What happened to him?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, Harry, the aurors took him into custody for attacking you,” Hermione elaborated.

‘Really, attacking me?’ All Harry could remember was the dwarf angrily throwing sand in his face. While the sand hurt and prickled like tiny needles and the taste of sand in his mouth was awful, it wasn’t the worst or most dangerous of attacks. He went out cold after a few seconds, but he hardly felt a thing.

“No, it wasn’t his fault, I insulted him and his race. I would have attacked me to for the things I said. I have to sort this mess out before everything blows out of proportion,” Harry explained while he was trying to free himself from the bedding.

“Harry, you have to relax. You can’t just run off yet,” Hermione said as Ron laid a big, calming hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, mate, while the healers haven’t found anything wrong with you they aren’t completely sure as to why you fainted. They don’t want to release you until they know that you are out of danger of a lasting spell or curse.”

::::::::::

Harry spent three days in St. Mungo’s before he was release by the healers who still couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He spent his days in bed trying to contact the dwarf he insulted so that he could apologize and clarify that he had nothing against dwarves and that his words of slight were spoken in anger. His invitations to talk were turned away but he ensured that the dwarf was released from the auror’s custody and cleared of all charges.

His time in the hospital was pleasant and he enjoyed talking with the many different healers who came to check on him. The healers at St. Mungo’s wanted to be absolutely sure that there was nothing wrong with their hero so Harry was checked for all sorts of things and he couldn’t help but become interested in the field of healing.

After his release from the hospital, Harry pursued the art of healing and through the years became a very accomplished healer.

Harry’s life went back to normal. He lived with Kreacher at Grimmauld Place and worked at St. Mungo’s as the heard healer. He attended Hermione and Ron’s wedding and become the godfather to their many kids. He stood at Teddy’s side when he first boarded the train to Hogwarts.

Over the years he and Malfoy came to settle their differences and he supported Ginny and her team “The Holyhead Harpies” at every quidditch match.

When Harry died, he was surrounded by those he considered family and he was happy.

::::::::::

Somehow, Harry had always ended up being the person the universe made a joke of. He had lived most of his grown life without an incident and he almost believed that he wasn’t that unfortunate anymore. Ha, what a joke and a really funny one. Of course his curse of being a trouble magnet wouldn’t dissolve.

How else could he explain his current situation?

Here he was in the body of a dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter of my story. I’m completely thrilled and scared about publishing my work so when I finished writing today I thought to hell with it and posted this chapter in a hurry. I’m sorry about the spelling mistakes! English is not my first language, if you know someone who would like to beta for me I would be honoured!!!  
> All comments are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not wiggle with your toes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start out by thanking all of you for reading, subscribing, and giving kudos!  
> I'm beyond happy with all the support I have recieved from you and I hope this new chapter won't dissapoint.  
> Enjoy!!

Harry knew the moment he regained consciousness that something was wrong.

He could feel soft earth underneath him, moulded to fit his body perfectly and he could hear the soft chime of a bird’s song.

Why would this feel wrong?

But Harry knew with every intake of breath that he was very much alive and that this wasn’t the afterlife he had hoped for. 

He was supposed to pass on, after all, the third time is the charm and as Harry flickered his eyes open, he was hit with tiny specks of sand in his eyes.

Pinching his eyes shut, he moved his upper body into and upright position. Blinking while willing his eyes to shed tears, he saw his first blurred view of his current location.

A few meters away, Harry could see the beginning of a forest. The treeline came together by big, almost leafless trees. He followed the line of trees with his eyes first left, then right, but he could see no end.

With the sand now gone from his eyes, Harry turned around and saw barren ground and thick fog shielding the view to the east, where he could see rays of sunshine coming through the damp morning fog.

Having now looked around, Harry was no closer to finding out where he was. He was not going to sit around but he knew that he could not call on his magic to help him. The normal calming presence of his magic flowing beneath his skin wasn’t there anymore.

Feeling like crying for real this time, Harry took several deep calming breaths. Yes, he was all alone and yes, his magic, the thing he came to love and cherish the most, was out of his reach but he was still Harry Potter and he would not cry.

Even with his mind made up, tiny tears still escaped down his cheeks. Harry laughed pitifully. “What’s wrong with me? I feel like a hormonal teenager girl.”

It had been a long time since Harry had had to go through the uncomfortable teenager years and, as he was now hundred and twenty years old, he hardly felt that it was right to have a fit.

Harry took his right hand to his face to wipe away the tears, but stopped short at the look of it. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he could see that he still had ten fingers and two hands but these weren’t his.

Harry’s hands were normally small with slender, long fingers. These hands in front of him were still small but the fingers were thicker and the skin a lot tougher.

Tracing himself with foreign hands, while looking down his new form, Harry came to the conclusion that he was in a stranger’s body.  

His nose was bigger, his thighs thicker and he was short. Running his new hand through his hair, he found it waist long and silky smooth. Apart from his slightly bigger nose, he assumed his face looked the same with his small ears and high cheekbones on a slim face.

His arms were shorter and they had a thin, even layer of soft hair over them. Looking down at his legs, he discovered that they too possessed a layer of hair.

Harry was actually happy about this new discovery as he never had the ability of producing body hair in his old body.

Looking down on his bare feet, he was surprised to discover that his feet had become even smaller than before.

His toes were slightly red from the cold ground and he desperately wanted a pair of shoes along with some pants, since a long green tunic was the only clothing on his body.

Reaching down to grasp the end of the tunic, he pulled the material up to have a final look at himself. He still had his rosy pink nipples and slim, pretty cock. He was still thin with a small waist but he had gained a healthier and curvier body with prominent hips.

He felt younger, his skin was smooth and young and his hair was raven black. Before he had died, he had obtained a few wrinkles and laugh lines along with a couple of grey hairs. This new body was young.   

Feeling his feet getting colder, Harry glanced back towards the forest. Should he look for help between the trees?

Harry was reminded of the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts. But this gloomy forest had an air of familiarity his body shuddered at the thought of going in between the trees. 

Harry would say that like a bird knew how to fly, his body knew that he would not thieve in the forest and thus he turned his body towards east, in hope of finding help.

 

::::::::::

 

After walking around in the fog, in what Harry assumed was three hours, the fog finally cleared. He hadn’t met anyone or spotted anything that showed signs of civilisation.

 But with the fog finally gone Harry could spot what he unconsciously had been heading towards all this time. In the far distance, he could see a mountain and after having lived all his life in the UK, he was awestruck by the sight. The sheer height and mass, it looked so close and yet so far away.

It was beautiful.

Harry knew that he wouldn’t get there by nightfall and he was slowly losing hope of finding help before darkness enveloped the whole sky.

He had neither warm clothes nor the means to light a fire, but if it came down to it and he had not found help before the sun came down, he could survive through the cold night. He could feel his young body brimming with energy and he felt no strain after the many hours of walking.    

After sunset, Harry kept walking and he tipped his head back many times to look at the unfamiliar starlit sky.

His feet were ice cold but Harry couldn’t will himself to stop in the middle of the barren field for sleep and rest. He would feel vulnerable without some cover to protect him.

Further ahead, he spotted a giant stone with a few surrounding dried bushes. Happy at the thought of resting his cold feet, Harry hurried ahead but stopped short at the sight of light coming from behind the stone.

Treading quietly forward, Harry could hear two male voices talking. They sounded friendly as they both spoke with light voices and a laugh or two were shared between them.

He did not get the chance to make himself known to the company before he was stopped by the presence of blade pressed against his lower back. By reflex, Harry flickered his wrist but his hand remained empty.

Silently cursing his luck for being defenceless against an armoured foe, he slowly raised his hands into the air to show that he was defenceless, as the stranger at his back spoke. “Run little assassin and I’ll run you through with my blade.”

Everything was quiet, even the light conversation from behind the stone had stopped, instead there were two curious faces poked out to look directly at Harry.

They didn’t look unfriendly, in fact they gave of a homely feeling like Mrs. Weasley; one of the men even wore the most ridiculous hat, Harry had ever seen. And when he said that, it would’ve to be true as he had seen many weird hats in his life as a wizard. 

“No need to be so serious with the lad, Sanix,” the one with the silly hat spoke. “I hardly think that an assassin would come against us defenceless.”

“Let me be the one to decide what he is Bofur, after all you are the toymaker and I’m the warrior, there is a reason I came along on this trip,” the one behind Harry, Sanix, said as he now lightly tapped the blade against Harry’s side. “Let us move into the light.”

Stepping into the camp and coming closer to the fire, Harry could not help but sigh out in light pleasure as the fire warmed his cold toes.

“Now, would you care to explain who you are and what you are doing out here on your own?” It was Bofur who asked and Harry lightly turned around to face all of the three men… dwarves.

Revelation dawned on Harry. They were dwarves, he was a dwarf that explained his new, short, hair-covered body. With thoughts running through his head, Harry failed to answer the question but the three dwarves hardly noticed Harry’s hesitation, for they were in awe of the sight before them.

Never before had they seen a creature this beautiful, for before them stood the Maker’s perfect creation with marble white skin, a face carved and caressed by the Maker’s tender touch, arms and legs filled with soft hair that their hands were eager to run over. When their eyes graced his hair they wanted nothing more than to plait their families’ signature braids and beads into the black locks. His two small hands were not made for the harsh work of mining but for holding and taking care of young ones. He stood on two perfectly formed feet and the three dwarves only dared a quick look, but even just a glance had their ears turning red. Finally the eyes, those green emeralds shone in the firelight brighter than any gem.  

Closing his mouth, which had hung open all that time, Harry finally gathered himself enough to answer; after all he had to make the best out of his situation, so he could worry about his problems later.

“I’m sorry for sneaking up on you. I had no ill intentions. My name is Harry, I do not know where I am and how I came to be here. I was just looking for help.”

“You are by the very foot of Erebor, how can you be lost?” the third dwarf asked.

“I’m not familiar with this place, I just woke up today all alone and I’m freezing, hungry, afraid, and tired of not knowing where I am,” Harry said, not really knowing how to explain his situation. He could even feel the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, he suddenly had the urge to sit down and cry.

“Well, why don’t we all sit down by the fire so we can start fixing all of those problems for you. I’m Bofur, at yer service.” Sitting down, Bofur indicated to the dwarf next to himself to continue the introductions. He introduced himself as Bifur, Bofur’s cousin. The last dwarf went by the name Sanix son of Filix.

Harry was handed a thick blanket and some pants by Bifur, while Sanix was working on filling a bowl with the stew they had hanging over the fire.

After having pulled the too big pants over his legs, Harry took the bowl of steaming stew from Sanix’s hands with a grateful smile, one that Sanix couldn’t help but return. This in turn made Harry smile even more, feeling accepted by the company of three, who were no longer suspicious of him. He was happy for the first time that day.

Harry brought his bowl closer to his face to avoid spilling on his borrowed clothes, stuck his feet out from under the blanket to lay them closer to the hot flames, and started eating.

Delighted by the taste, he looked up from his meal to complement his companions on their delicious stew but stopped himself, when he saw that their attention was fixed on something behind him.

Turning to look over his shoulder he could see nothing of noteworthy interest. Turning his head back, he could not help but ask. “What are you all looking at?”

Harry noted that the three dwarves looked nervously at each other and he was reminded of the time when he was babysitting his godchildren and had caught them doing something they oughtn’t. What had he missed while eating?

He had to ask. “What’s going on?”  

It was Bofur who answered him. “Well, lad, when we are presented with such a pair of feet, it is hard not to stare.”

Harry was completely lost, he felt like the three other dwarves where speaking a completely different language even though he understood Bifur’s and Sanix’s mumblings of, “We did not mean to look,” and, “We are sorry,” while avoiding looking at him.

“What’s wrong with my feet? I can understand that they’re dirty right now but I honestly cannot understand what all the fuss is about. I want you to be frank with me.”

Harry waited patiently for an answer while wriggling his lightly roasted toes. 

Bifur finally met Harry’s eyes and Harry could see that he was confused by Harry’s statement. “You don’t know? How old are you?”

Deciding to humour them, even though he could not see the relevance of the question, he spoke the truth. “I’m a hundred and twenty now.”

“Bless the Maker,” Bofur exclaimed. “You are young alright, but at that age you should know better than to dangle your feet around strangers.”

“What are you all going on about? Bifur, please explain what it is I’m missing.” Harry turned his question towards the only dwarf who seemed to understand that Harry honestly did not know, what was going on.

“Feet are particularly significant to the dwarven race, they’re what carry us around all our life. We would not be able to fight, mine, or carve a life without them. That is why we only show our feet to our significant other, with whom we choose to walk together on the path of life.”

Pulling his feet back under the blanket, Harry asked. “Do you always have your feet covered? What about walking around barefooted in the summer? What about the children?” 

“How can you not know of this?” Bofur asked.

“I do not know anything about being a dwarf, I’m lost...”

“To answer your earlier question then, yes, we cover our feet in public and even in the company of family. It‘s only in the solitude of our room we shed our shoes and mostly it only happens when we bathe or go to sleep. When a dwarf is born, the mother and father cover and wash the baby’s feet until the child is old enough to do so themselves.” Sanix said, all the while keeping eye contact with Harry; to make him understand that this was no light topic.

Harry looked at the three dwarves, hoping that he hadn’t ruined the opportunity of friendship between the first people he had met in this new world.

“I apologize for showing my feet so casually but you have to believe me when I say that I did so without the knowledge I now have. Please forgive me if I have offended any of you.”

“If anyone should apologize it should be us, we had no right to gaze upon your feet but did so anyway even though we knew it was not in our rights to do so.” Harry could see and hear the shame Bifur felt as he spoke this to Harry.

“I could not be angry at you, for you have given me clothes, food, and company in a time where I most needed it, so thank you.”

“If you look at it like that, we’ll have to thank you as well for the wonderful show you put on earlier.” Bofur was only too happy to make a joke of this.

“Feet hold a certain sexual appeal to us and after a long day of walking through Mirkwood, we certainly deserve such a reward, thank you, Harry.” Bofur ended his rant with a shameless wink.

Bifur stood up and started running after a laughing Bofur, shouting that he would defend Harry’s honour against his vile cousin. Without knowing it, Harry had put on a sexual display but his embarrassment was forgotten with the good mood in the camp and he could not help but smile and laugh.

Having settled their misunderstanding, the dwarves wanted to hear Harry’s tale, so he told them how he woke up in front of the forest he then came to know as Mirkwood, and how he wandered about.

In turn the dwarves told him an entertaining tale about their day in Mirkwood. Bofur had been in need of different sorts of wood to make children’s toys and he had needed help to collect and carry the word, which was why Bifur and Sanix had joined him.

Harry was surprised to learn that there were elves in the forest he had seen earlier that day and that the three dwarves in front of him showed great dislike towards them. Even though, Bofur, Bifur, and Sanix praised Mahal for their luck to have escaped an encounter with an elf, Harry still wanted to meet one.

After some more light conversation, Harry was about to lie down for today; Bifur had already given him his pillow as he would not need it for his guard duty. Harry laid his head against the pillow but as thoughts of the day’s events ran through his head and he could not help but ask.  

“You did not seem shocked about my age, can I ask how old you three are?”

“Well, me and Bofur are pushing around two hundred while Bifur is around the two fifty,” Sanix relayed.

“Now that you are over one-hundred you are of an ideal age to marry.”

“Are any of you married?” he asked then.

“I have the loveliest dwarrowdam waiting for me back home,” Bifur said, from his place against the big rock. “But these too knuckleheads here, Harry, aren’t that lucky.”

“How come? I’ve not met many dwarves but I know that anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Dwarves don’t marry on a whim, we marry for life and we are picky in our choice for a life partner.” Bofur smiled brightly at Harry while saying this. “You really do not know anything about being a dwarf, do you?”

Harry was suddenly faced with the reality of his current situation and he couldn't help but become nervous about his future. He was in a strange new world with different creatures and societies; would he even fit in?

He turned his eyes away while mumbling, “not at all.”

“Yer nervous?” Bofur had immediately known by his hunched shoulder.

“You have nothing to worry about, Harry. We won’t leave you at the entrance of Erebor. We will get you settled and show you the ropes.”

“Of that you can be sure,” Sanix added. “We will make a fine dwarf of you, my friend.”    

As Harry went to sleep, he didn’t see the three dwarves staring at him as they all share the same thought: he would not need any help to be well-liked among their people. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the spelling mistakes you may have found, I'm still looking for a beta.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading for I had fun writing this chapter. I have slight podophobia so it was fun writing about dwarves attraction to feet, which I myself don’t find that appealing.  
> Let me know if I should continue!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are incredible!! I’m blown away by the comments and support I have receive.  
> Please enjoy this chapter which I have published with the help of my wonderful beta!!

Harry opened his eyes and looked to Bofur who was lightly shaking him awake.

 

“Good morning Harry, did you sleep alright?” Bofur asked as he handed Harry a bowl of steaming stew from the dinner last night.  


With the bowl in hand Harry sat up to eat as Sanix and Bifur were already digging into their own meal. The three dwarves had let Harry sleep while they cleaned up and packed their bags, so they could move on after the meal. Harry didn’t know how they had accomplished moving around camp without waking him, after all, he had always been a very light sleeper. Not that it mattered; Harry was grateful for their effort so he could get a few extra minutes of sleep.

 

“Yes, I had a pleasant sleep. I wasn’t exactly sleeping on a bed fit for a princess but I felt comfortable being close to the earth.”

 

“You may not know much about being a dwarf but you certainly got the instincts of one. All dwarves are attracted to earth and stone, we like it best with our feet on the ground,” Sanix said, causing Harry to turn to him.

 

“Oh, but I love flying. Have none of you ever wanted to fly?” Harry couldn’t help but say.

 

“I have never seen the reason why. We are not made for flying. This is the will of our great Maker; he made us for the stone and earth.”  

 

“I think you have to take back your words Sanix,” Bofur was only too happy to point Sanix’s misplaced words of praise out, however insignificant the praise may have been. Sanix turned to Bofur and Harry was sure that Bofur’s hat would catch fire any moment with the intensity of the glare. Bifur could only shake his head at his cousin’s actions and direct his attention towards Harry.

 

“How did you come to fly?”

 

Harry wanted to smack himself. How could he have been so careless? It surely wouldn’t help to say that he flew around on a broomstick. Way to go Harry Bloody Potter. Harry hated to lie especially when Bofur, Bifur and Sanix had showed him such honesty and kindness but he saw no other way around it.

 

“I haven’t really tried it before, it has only really happened in my dreams. But I love the feeling and I would be most happy to try it for real one day,” Harry explained. Bofur sat his bowl aside and started cleaning it with sand, along with the empty pot.

 

“It’s possible but highly unlikely you will ever get the chance. There aren’t that many options and since most winged creatures are hostile minded I would advise against it.”

 

“What kind of creatures are there? Do you live together with some of them?” Harry questioned. Bifur handed his bowl to Bofur and went to his backpack where he started looking between his fabrics in search for something.

 

“We dwarves live by ourselves in Erebor and other great dwarven kingdoms, quite like the humans and elves do. We do trade and bargain but we are otherwise divided. As for winged creatures I can only mention fell beasts, eagles and dragons, though dragons and fell beasts haven’t been spotted for centuries now,” Bifur answered the younger dwarf.

 

Harry was saddened to hear that the species of this world lived indifferently towards each other, like in the wizarding world. He knew only too well what the isolation of species could result in; hate, mistrust, and misunderstandings. Something that Harry could already see caused problems between the dwarves and elves of this land.

 

Bifur had found what he had been searching for as he pulled some brown cloth from his bag and came towards Harry with it.

 

“Also, out of those three beasts I would say that you would most likely get a ride on those haughty eagles,”

Bifur stopped before Harry and held out the cloth for him. “Here, you will have to tie these around your feet. Sadly, we don’t have any extra shoes with us and you will have to wait to we get to Dale before we can purchase any for you.”

 

“I don’t have any money,” Harry said, taking the two pieces of cloth from Bifur’s hands and handing his empty bowl back. He then turned his back to the company so he could pull his feet out from under the blanket he still had around him.

 

Struggling with binding the cloth together at his ankles, the three dwarves finished packing and hoisted their bags onto their shoulders ready to go. With his feet now covered Harry gathered the blanket, going towards the other dwarves who were looking towards Erebor. Sanix held his hand out as Harry come closer.

 

“I will carry your blanket. You needn’t worry about the money for the shoes. It will be a gift from all of us,” Harry hesitantly handed the blanket to Sanix. He felt bad about letting the dwarves carry all the bags when he could help them.

 

“Thank you, I will pay you back of course when I have the money. I’ll take some of your bags, it’s the least I could do,” Harry offered.

 

“Ahh, you don’t need to carry a thing Harry.”

 

“No, I insist,” Harry took the bundle of wooden branches from Bofur’s hands, hoisted it over his shoulders and started walking towards the mountain before the dwarves could stop him. Bofur came up to his side smiling as always.

 

“Well if you insist, I can hardly find it in myself to stop you. However, I have to say that we will not take any money from you. You don’t know this of course, but if you gave us money from a gift, it would be a terrible insult to us.”

 

“None the less,” Bifur said as he and Sanix came up beside them, “you will have to find a job when we get to the mountain, any ideas?”

 

“I have some knowledge and skill at healing, would that be of any use?” Harry shrugged. Bofur’s smile got positively wider.

 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Harry. If you worked in the Hall of Healing people all over Erebor would suddenly get into bizarre accidents every day. Then you wouldn’t have time for little old me.”

 

“I wouldn’t blame him for wanting to work there now cousin, just to get away from you,” Bifur joked. Sanix gave a short laugh in agreement.

 

“Other than to avoid my cousin, I think the Hall of Healing would be a good place for you to find work. They are always short of staff since the art of healing isn’t a favourable craft for dwarves. You would be welcomed there.”

 

On the way to Dale, Harry learned that this world was filled with other magical creatures. They had orcs, goblins, trolls, wrags, balrogs, hobbits, fairies, ents, skin-changers. They even had wizards, but sadly there were only a few and he was not one of them. He was told about the cooperation between Dale, Erebor, and Mirkwood. That Erebor was the wealthiest and greatest of all the dwarven kingdoms and that Erebor had a king.

 

Harry was interested in the dwarven life at Erebor and the three dwarves were happy to talk about their lives. Bofur was the owner of a successful toyshop which was located in the shopping district. His cousin Bifur was also a toymaker and they ran the business together with their newly employed apprentice Khîm, who was currently in charge of the shop while they were gone. The two cousins lived at the same home together with Bofur’s brother, Bombur, who was Head Chef in the royal kitchen.

 

Sanix had, for a long time, worked as a common guard standing at attention before the gates of Erebor, the market and shop districts, and going back and forth in Erebor’s many halls. He had only very recently started rising in rank from a guard to a known fierce warrior. He was being trained under the great general of Erebor’s army Dwalin, son of Fundin, whom Harry learned a fair deal about, since Sanix wouldn’t stop taking about his idol.

 

Luckily Bifur and Bofur saved Harry from hearing more tales of Dwalin’s great skill in battle by drawing him into a conversation about the importance of hair, braids, and beads. Harry had contemplated cutting his hair when he reached Erebor for he always kept his hair short but that idea seemed to go out the window. He would not want to make another spectacle, like the feet incident yesterday, and defiantly not in front of a whole mountain of dwarves. Dwarven hair took decades to grow and if your hair was cut it was a sign of great loss, shame or treachery.     

 

::::::::::

 

They reached Dale a little after midday. When the group stepped through the open Eastern gate, Harry felt like he had when he walked through the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley for the first time with Hagrid. It was magical in its own unique way. People; men, dwarves, and elves alike filled the streets in their colourful clothes. Laughter was shared between friends, music was heard along with shouts from the salesmen who advertised their goods.

 

Harry would like to think that his own world could have looked like this once upon a time. This world didn’t have cars or electricity, nor did they have wizards in the quantity he had known, but they were content and happy in a way Harry had not seen from the people in his world.

 

Blown away like a child in a candy store Harry walked around with the biggest smile on his face, captivated by all the things he saw. He completely missed the astonished looks from other dwarves who walked by.

Bofur burst out with laughter when one poor lad walked straight into a wall when he caught Harry’s eye and was rewarded with a blinding smile. Harry didn’t know how long he had walked around in his dreamy haze, but he was pushed out of it when Bifur took the lead.

 

“We are going this way. What do you think of Dale, Harry?” Bifur asked, guiding the dwarf in the right direction.

 

“It’s absolutely brilliant.” Harry replied in awe.

 

“Wait until you see Erebor it will make your heart sing.”

 

Harry had never enjoyed shopping and he only bought what was strictly necessary. He knew he needed a pair of shoes before he could enter through Erebor’s gates but shoe shopping with three other male dwarves proved to be one of his worst shopping experiences yet. 

 

The shoemaker was a kind elderly man who presented himself as Thorsten. He was delighted to see dwarves in his shop for he had never made shoes for a dwarf before. He told Harry to sit and went to kneel before him to look at Harry’s small bundled up feet. Harry could feel Sanix, Bifur, and Bofur freeze behind him when Thorsten took one of Harry’s feet in his hand to unbind the cloth. Thorsten found himself thrown to the ground by two toymakers and a warrior, having only touched Harry’s foot. The dwarves were raving mad, Sanix even had his sword out and Harry being Harry soon jumped into the fray to stop the madness.

 

After regaining some sense of order Harry made the three dunderheads apologize to poor Thorsten and asked them to wait outside the shop so that he could get his shoes, but they absolutely refused to leave his side. They were convinced that Harry would be taken advantage of because he didn’t know their ways. It would be very improper to leave him alone. Thorsten had a difficult time assessing his shoe size since he couldn’t touch nor look at his feet without the cloth on.

 

In the end Thorsten found a pair of old boots his son had grown out of years ago. The boots were much too wide around his calves but Thorsten fixed it quickly with a two leather straps which went around the calves to bind the boots tightly to his legs. The boots were comfortable around his feet and having thanked Thorsten while the three dwarves paid him the group exited the shop to the cobblestone street.

Walking towards Erebor Harry was determent that he would not need another pair of shoes before these fell apart around his feet. He didn’t even want to think about how dwarves in Erebor had shoes fitted by the shoemaker.

 

::::::::::

 

They were so close to the gates now he could see two giant stone statues standing guard on either side of the great carved stone entrance. The front gate was an incredible piece of work that showed the dwarves superior skills in working with stone. If it wasn’t for his body brimming with energy he would probably think the whole thing was a bit too extravagant. The entrance was flooded with dwarves going in and out of the mountain. When they came closer, Harry couldn’t help but notice that people were looking at him.

 

“Why are they all looking at me? Have I done something wrong again?” Harry whispered.

 

“Harry, sweet Harry. You are a beautiful new dwarf nobody knows about, everyone will be incredible interested to get to know you better,” Bofur explained. “You will do fine as long you remember to be polite and to not accept gifts from strange young men.”

 

“Merlin Bofur, you sound like a worried mother.” Harry sighed.

 

“That is because I’m worried. We will help you in every way we can but we cannot be together with you every hour of the day,” Bofur replied. “What’s a Merlin?” He added as an afterthought.

 

“It's a figure of speech, forget it.” Harry didn’t want to talk anymore. He felt that his voice drew even more attention towards him and he wanted to focus.

 

They were passing through the gate and as they went by, the guards stationed there all turned their heads to look at the sight walking past them which made Sanix glare at them in anger. Harry ignored the looks he got for he had never before set foot in a dwarven settlement. Did the dwarves in his old world live like this? For if they did, it was no wonder why he or other wizards haven’t been allowed into their home for their human hearts would most likely be filled with greed at the sight.

 

The entrance hall was enormous, the floor structured like a mosaic and the walls were decorated with great skill. The fifty meter high celling was adorned with shining diamonds and stones, but it was nothing compared to the second gate ahead of them. Harry wasn’t able to say which kind of metal it was made of but it came together with giant dwarves standing shoulder to shoulder, crossed arms and weapons in hand. It was an inspiring sight. Bifur was suddenly rushing forward and ran into the arms of a man, woman, Harry couldn’t really tell.

 

“That is my cousin’s wife Karga, I can imagine that they would want to have some hours to themselves” Bofur explained.

 

“I have to report back to my department, I will see you both at a later time Bofur, Harry, goodbye.” With that, Sanix walked through the second gate and disappeared into the crowd.  

 

“It’s just you and me now Bofur, where do we go from here unless you plan to leave as well?” Harry asked.

 

“We will go to the department for citizens’ employment and housing to see if there are any free homes at the moment and to fill out a job application for the Hall of Healing. It shouldn’t be too much trouble.” Bofur told the raven haired boy.

 

“Master Bofur, master Bofur. You must come to the shop immediately.” A young dwarf without a beard, with brown eyes and hair came running towards them.

 

“Khîm, what is it?” Bofur questioned the young dwarf. Harry had to jog keep up with them for they were already walking in the direction of what Harry presumed was Bofur’s shop.

 

“It’s lord Rorek, he’s demanding to see you and only you to make his request for a gift for his daughter’s birthday. It would be a big opportunity for us so I knew I had to find you.”

 

“You did right Khîm I will go there but you will have to lead Harry to the department for citizens’ employment and housing. I’m so sorry to leave you Harry but this is an important business deal I cannot miss.” Bofur apologised. With that, he too went off and Harry stood alone with a now very quiet and red face dwarf.

 

“I’m Harry, son of James, it’s good to meet you. I would be very happy if you were to be so kind to show me the way for I don’t know my way around this mountain yet,” Harry grinned at this new dwarf. “Oh, and please call me Harry, I want us to be friends,” Harry added as an afterthought.

 

Khîm was a bubbling mess but after some time he stopped stuttering enough to have a decent conversation with Harry. He was a sweet boy, probably around Harry’s own age but Harry felt much older which he was sure had something to do with his life as a human. Khîm was happy to work under Bofur and Bifur to become a toymaker. He was talking none stop about his work in the shop. He wanted Harry to come and visit him when he was settled but only if Harry wanted, of course.

 

They had wandered through black marble like halls for some time now before Khîm stopped beside a large half open door.

 

“I will wait out here for you while you settle your business I don’t mind waiting for you, I wouldn’t want you to get lost.” Khîm offered.

 

“Thank you Khîm, I will try to be done as fast as I can.”

 

 Harry easily walked through the half open door into what looked like a more crowded Gringott’s. The only other notable difference was that it was dwarves sitting in the high booths stationed around the room instead of goblins. Harry hoped that these dwarves were nothing like the goblins but he had his doubts. They sat in the same manner behind their high booths filled with stacks of papers wearing grim expressions, emitting an air of self-importance.

 

Getting in line, Harry really hoped he was wrong about these dwarves. While waiting Harry felt more than one person try to make eye contact with him but he kept looking ahead. Thankfully nobody came up to talk to him for he wouldn’t know how to deal with it now.

 

“Next.”

 

The clerk was a robust dwarven woman, dark beard and all. Harry stepped forward and she looked down on him from behind her big nose with her dark eyes.

 

“What do you want?” She barked at Harry.

 

 No, this was nothing like Gringott’s at all. The goblins would snare at your back from time to time but they were polite which couldn’t be said about the bearded lady in front of him.

 

“Hello, I have come here because I need assistance in getting a home and I have heard that you can help me in that regard. Second, I want to apply for a job in the Hall of Healing so I would ask if you could hand me and application form.”

 

“Hnn, do you really think that I will just give you a home when there are hundreds of other dwarves who are in need of one as well? Maybe you do not think about the other dwarves here in mountain because you usually get what you want, don’t you pretty face?”

 

“What no, that is not true I.. “

 

“What is the problem anyway? I cannot imagine that you would have a hard time finding a place to sleep. Come again when you decide to not waste my time, next.” The female dwarf interrupted, calling to the next person in line.

 

“NO. Now you just wait a moment I have done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment and I will pretend I didn’t hear you say all those horrible things about me since I do need some help from you. I can understand if there isn’t any home ready for me at the moment but I wish to get in line and contacted when the opportunity arise. Also I wish to apply for work in the Hall of Healing.”

 

“Mahal you are an annoying little twig but I suppose the fastest way to be rid of you is to deal with this as quickly as possible.” She huffed, turning to the left to run through a stack of papers, facing him again when she had found the right forms.

 

“Here, you have to fill these out with your information and deliver them over at the office in the back. Then we will contact you when we have something open for you to move into. Now for your work application I will have to see papers from your medical education. ” She stuck out her hand, her face pinched with impatient. 

 

“I do not have those papers you are asking for but I have worked as a healer for many years. Can it not be done without those?”

 

“What do you think, quit wasting my time.” She scoffed.

 

“Will it be possible for me to go through my medical education again to get those papers?” Harry asked. The bearded lady turned to the paper stack on her left again.

 

“You will have to find someone in the Hall of Healing who would take you as an apprentice. Here is the application form,” She pushed the paper over to Harry, “You can leave it at the same office in the back of the hall. I do believe that was all, NEXT.” 

 

Overjoyed to get away from that horrid women Harry walked towards the free tables in the middle of the room. He hated paperwork but it didn’t look like it would be too much trouble. Having put the papers down on the table he looked around for a pen but none was found.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Harry turned around to face the deep voice and was face by a pair of wine red eyes. Harry stood before a very handsome dwarf with long black hair and beard. The beard was plaited together in a complicated pattern that went all the way down to his breast and his hair was pulled into a low ponytail filled with rubies to match his eyes. He wore black clothes that showed off his broad, strong body. All of his fingers held golden rings with diamonds and in his outstretched hand he held a silver quill with tiny white stones around the edge of the feather.

 

“It looks like you could use one of these. I will give you this, as a gift.”   


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gift.

****

Throughout his life, Harry had been called many things: courageous, reckless, kind, stupid but he had never been naïve, no matter what others had been let to believe. His childhood had been anything but a walk in the park and he had learned quickly that actions bore consequences, nothing came the easy way. He would not say that he was grateful for his upbringing at the Dursley’s but at least he had been prepared for the price of becoming a wizard. You see, Harry had learned from a young age that you couldn’t have food unless you worked for it. Becoming a wizard at the age of eleven he had instantly known that having magic wouldn’t be for free and he had spent many years compensating for it by dealing with Voldemort. Call it wrong but Harry felt he had to give something back for having friends, for going to Hogwarts, and for having magic. After having finished his education as a healer he had come to terms with his unjust situation but chose not to dwell on the past for he was proud of the person he had become.

Looking at the quill in the jewel inlayed hand he knew that he couldn’t take it. After having been warned by Sanix, Bifur and Bofur time and time again not to take any gifts from strangers, he just knew, he wouldn’t be willing to pay the price that came with the gift. For all he knew he could owe the red eyed man a favour, be in his debt until a wish had been fulfilled, or the quill could be enchanted, leaving him to the cruel fate of servitude or torture. Maybe he was being a tad overdramatic for it could just turn out to be a kind gesture, but the forewarning from his three new friends wouldn’t leave his mind, making his arm hang beside him.

The unique wine red eyes didn’t leave his form not even to look at the crowd of people, whom Harry now noticed had gathered around them. The stranger’s eyes were calm. It was as if he had already foreseen the outcome of his offer and was now only waiting for Harry’s acceptance. If the stranger’s clothes and jewellery hadn’t been a big enough hint about the man’s status, then this act of arrogance could only strengthen that claim. He was an important, well known man and Harry wouldn’t do well by being rude or insulting a dwarf of high standing on his first day in Erebor. The only problem was how to go about this when he had no idea how to handle the situation.

Harry parted his lips slightly to make some kind of refusal but the words got stuck in his throat at the swift flash of desire clouded in the red eyes. Desire. Was this some kind of sexual favour? Maybe even a courtship proposal? It wasn’t unheard of in the wizard world that gifts were exchange between the courting couple. If this was the case he couldn’t believe the cheek of this dwarf! How could he come up to Harry like that, offering to buy sexual favours or offer a courtship without introducing himself or asking for Harry’s name first, the nerve.

“I couldn’t possibly accept this beautiful gift from a complete stranger.” Wide red eyes beheld him and Harry only smiled in return as he stepped forward and lightly took the quill out of the bigger hand. “But I can see that you are a kind noble man who would help me, a newcomer, by letting me borrow your quill for a few minutes. I promise that you shall have your quill back in the same state by the end of this ordeal.”     

With the quill in hand, Harry turned around to his small stack of papers on the table. Skimming through the content on the first page he hoped to finish in record time so he could return the quill and get out of here. No such luck. He could feel the stranger’s heat as he came up to stand directly behind him, feel the red eyes on his body. Harry ignored him for now and pretended to do his business by writing down the few pieces of information he could about himself, which weren’t all that much. He needed help for several reasons. The first problem was that he had to write the year of his birth, which was impossible seeing as he didn’t even know what the year was now. Second, he had to state an address so the departments could contact him when news of a free home or job position was open. He didn’t for the life of him know where Bofur and Bifur lived. Maybe he could just write `Bofur’s toystore´ but he wouldn’t take the chance, he had to be sure that he would receive his mail. 

Being unable to get anymore work done Harry folded his papers in half and turned around, hoping to make his escape. His eyes were immediately captured by red. Escape would seem difficult for he was cornered, with the table desk at his back, by the strong figure ahead. Harry wouldn’t be intimidated; His eyes didn’t wave nor did his form draw back. No, he stood strong.

Trying to act like everything was in perfect order, Harry broke the silence. “Thank you for letting me borrow your quill. Here it is, as I promised” Harry said while holding out the beautiful silver quill. Big, thick fingers brushed against his as they took the silver object from Harry’s hand and Harry heard the deep voice of the stranger once more as he spoke;

 “You may borrow, take or ask of anything you want from me, abnâmul. I’m Ralec son of Reivic at your service.”  

Harry’s still slightly outstretched hand was touched once again by the same fingers that seconds ago had taken the quill from their gasp. Ralec held his hand lightly and then right before Harry’s eyes he bowed down to place a kiss right over his knuckles.

Ralec lips lingered only a short moment on the skin of Harry’s hand. His red eyes found green and his voice filled Harry’s ears; “I want nothing more than to be familiar with you, please tell me your name?” Ralec took a step back to give Harry more space, to Harry’s comfort, before he once more stood at his full height.    

It all happened so fast. The stranger had just called Harry beautiful, then kissed his hand. He was now certain that, this, Ralec wanted to be more than just helpful.

“I’m Harry son of James. It was nice to meet you Ralec but I must be going.” With that said Harry stepped around Ralec, going toward the door where Khîm would be waiting outside in the hall. He was stopped by the light grip around his left wrist.

“Harry,” Ralec spoke “I’m sorry if I have scared you with my unorthodox behaviour. I know that it was unbecoming of me to establish my interest so suddenly without introduction. But in my defence I must say that I have never met one other like you, you blew my sense away.”

Harry had met many liars in his life and he could not detect any falseness in Ralec’s apology, he truly regretted his behaviour towards him. It would even appear that Ralec’s action didn’t fall in favour of any strange dwarven traditions either.  

“Your further refusal of my gift was unexpected as was your action towards my showing interest in you. You do not seem interested in my company Harry and I must say that I find it refreshing,” Ralec kept eye contact, his voice becoming deeper with each word he spoke, “And exciting.”

“I accept your apology for I can see that you are sincere but beyond that I don’t know what to say.” Harry answered, adverting his eyes to the side while his hand automatically came up to rub the back of his neck in nervousness. Instead of meeting his bare neck Harry’s hand came into contact with his soft long hair. His fingers wandered through the length of his hair in wonder, still not used to its presence. He looked to Ralec again to explain further; “I have only just arrived to Erebor today and came here to settle things. To be completely honest I’m unfamiliar with the way of dwarves. I woke up yesterday, unable to remember anything from before in my life.” Harry figured that it was best to feign amnesia. This way he wouldn’t have to answer questions about his life before waking up outside Mirkwood, preventing him from lying even more.

Ralec’s dark eyebrows came together, his exspession worried. He stepped towards Harry, maybe to get some form of privacy from the still watching crowd around them, as he spoke. “I’m sorry to hear that, you must have a lot of unanswered questions. I want you to know that you can ask me for help if you are in need of it.”

“You’re being awfully kind towards me Ralec. I wonder if you show such hospitality towards every new face here in Erebor?” Harry couldn’t help but let the scepticism in his voice show and he was sure Ralec heard it to when he gave Harry a sharp smile and replied.

“I will admit that I’m doing this for my own selfish reason, abnâmul,” His gaze shifted to the papers in Harry’s hand, “If you are looking for a home here in this mountain I happen to have two places of residence,I would be willing to let you live in any of them. We can go take a look on them now and you can choose the one you like the best.”

Harry cursed himself for the light blush he felt creep up his cheeks. He would admit that he found Ralec quite charming, his voice, the upturn of his soft looking lips. God, Harry would confess that it had been years since he had received flattery like this and the attention from Ralec was getting to him. That being said he wouldn’t jump into Ralec’s big, strong looking arms, but he was flattered.

“It’s a tempting offer,” Harry replied while daring to take a little step closer. “But, I’ll have to meet up with my friends now and talk it over with them first before I make any decision.”    

“I’ll respect that. I will be willing to meet up with you tomorrow at the entrance hall, where you can tell me of your decision.”

“That would be acceptable. When should I meet you?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Ralec mused, taking Harry’s hand to place it over his right arm, steering him through the crowd of stunned dwarves, towards the exit. “I wouldn’t mind spending the whole day with you tomorrow but unfortunately I’m to attend a meeting around midday. I would prefer we meet up a little after dawn.”  

When they passed through the big doors into the sleek black marble like halls, Ralec lead them to a stop. He took Harry’s hand in his, bowed once more to lay a kiss to the back of his hand, and said; “I’m afraid this is where I have to part from you now Harry. I’ll see you again in the morrow.” He then gave Harry a final big smile and turned to go down the left side of the corridor.

Harry only had to turn to the other half of the corridor to see a stunned Khîm. “Was that Lord Ralec you were just speaking with, Harry?” He asked shocked, looking over Harry’s shoulder to glimpse at Ralec’s still retreating figure.

“Lord? Well I guess I was. Why, do you know him?”

“Know him?” Khîm said disbelievingly. “His family owns most of the mithril mines in Moira, of course I know him, everyone does. What were you and he talking about just now?”      

Harry couldn’t put his finger on it but Khîm seemed rather down for some reason. When Harry had left him Khîm had been smiling but now he bore this sullen expression on his face. It reminded him of the look that would cross Ron’s face whenever he would see Malfoy in the corridor at Hogwarts. 

“I meet him by accident. We were just talking a bit and he offered to help me get settled here in Erebor.” Harry answered the young dwarf. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. We had a huge crowd of people staring at us and now you’re acting weird. I get that Ralec is an important figure but he is still just a man, you shouldn’t treat him any differently than anyone else.”

Now Khîm was nervously twisting his fingers looking everywhere but at Harry and Harry was suddenly feeling tired and hungry. “Can’t we just forget about the whole thing?” He asked Khîm. “I’m sorry it took me so long and that you had to wait for me all this time.”

“Oh no, you must not think that I’m angry at you Harry.” Khîm exclaimed.

“That is good to know,” Harry quickly assured the young dwarf, “I also consider you to be one of my very first friends in this mountain.”

“Friends?” Khîm asked, the two red dots on his cheeks were adorable, making him appear even younger and led Harry to laughter.

“Well of course,” he said after his laughter had died down. “Now will you show me the way to Bofur and Bifur’s house, I’m getting quite hungry?”

And so Harry followed a happy Khîm the rest of the way to the cousin’s house.

 

::::::::::

The house, if you could call it that, was lovely. It was part of the mountain like all the other great halls, built in the very fundament they live in. None the less it was a home with old solid furniture, the smell of food wafting through every room and the presence of the people who live here. Harry wanted nothing more than to set his boots by the door and let his feet sink into the many different carpets littering over the floor.

 For some reason he combined relaxation with the state of having no shoes on. When he had worked as healer he could only finally relax when he came home from work, took off his shoes and then he could proceed to make dinner, read a book, take a shower, and go to bed in peace. It would be difficult for him to get used to wearing shoes all the time now.

He stood in, what he would guess to be, the family’s living room. It was a quarter of the home where the family could sit together in the afternoons. To the right side stood two brown mismatched couches facing each other with a low iron table between. There were also two different armchairs, one red, the other brown, which stood facing away from the fireplace, in the back wall, towards the couches and the centre of the room. The fireplace would warm the whole family in the cosy area and the fire would be lighted by the wooden blocksand coals in the metal basket in the corner. The room was bathed in the light from the small oil-lamps throughout the room and though Harry couldn’t see a single picture on the black walls they were decorated by engraved patterns.

Bifur’s head poked out from one of the two doorways in the left side of the living room. He must have heard the door open when Harry came in.

“Thank Mahal, its Harry.” Bifur called back over his shoulder to the other occupants behind him. Then the dwarf’s smiling face turned back to address him; “We were starting to wonder if you had been kidnapped. Where did you leave young Khîm?”

“We parted outside, he said he had to hurry home. Really Bifur, Kidnapped?”

“Well I wouldn’t put it past some old possessive lord to grab you and stuff you into his deep pockets. Come in and meet the rest of the family.”

He followed Bifur into the Kitchen and dining room where the biggest dwarf Harry had ever seen was placing pots of hot steaming food on the cream-colored stone table. “Harry I want you to meet my cousin Bombur,” Bifur said and gestured toward the larger dwarf, “and my beautiful wife Karga” Bifur walked towards the other unknown smiling individual in the room whom had to be Bifur’s wife. She had orange coloured curly hair and beard and shiny blue, sliver eyes. He would admit that he had mixed feelings about women with full grown beards but it was easy to see that she was a woman. She was big busted, had big hips, and her face bore an expression of kindness.

After introductions were done they sat down to dig into the feast of meat pies, spareribs, and meat stew Bombur had prepared for them. Normally Bombur would still be at work but today he had taken a day off to welcome his brother and cousin home.

Bombur was abnormally shy around him. When Bifur introduced him he glanced towards the ground like a man who hoped the ground would open and swallow him whole. When Bombur took the initiative to talk to Harry over dinner he would fight to find the right words, which resulted in stutter. Bofur took far too much delight in his brother’s nervousness and Harry had to shoot him more than one glare. Neville had also been horribly shy during his first years at Hogwarts, but he was also uncommonly kind hearted and he could see that Bombur shared this trait with his old school comrade.

It seemed that Bofur and Bifur had already explained Harry’s circumstances to Karga and Bombur. Bombur would be more than happy to have him help in the royal’s kitchen when Harry had expressed his joy for cooking to the family. Harry was delighted by the opportunity and they agreed that he would help out while he waited for a chance to work at the Hall of Healing.

Karga was a calm woman who possessed deep patience and understanding. Mrs. Weasley would have grown grey hairs if she saw the bad table manners here but Karga didn’t even blink. She handled the men’s bad habits well but then again she worked as a teacher. All young dwarrows were expected to learn how to read, write and calculate but they would mostly be taught at home by their parents. Karga taught the children of the lords and ladies of the court and he could very well imagine that it would take patience to do so.

“Would you be up for a small shopping trip Harry? You really do need some extra clothes and I have some free time after school tomorrow.” Karga asked him over the smooth dining table.

“Actually,” he said gald that he could bring this up. “I’m to meet with Ralec son of Reivic in the morrow but I’m free to meet with you later in the day.”   

Bofur spurted “What? Lord Ralec. How did you come by him?”

 “After I had received the application formulas from that, excuse my language, horrid teller lady, I wanted to file them out and get away from the staring crowd as quickly as possible.” He knew that he was rambling by the stunned open-mounted expressions that greeted his explanation. But he continued his story anyway about what happened between Ralec and him. “Also, I still haven’t filled the papers out completely, could you help me with that later?”

 “He offered you to choose one of his residences to live in, at what price?” Karga asked excitedly.   

“He wanted to know more about me and I told him there wasn’t much to know. He didn’t say anything about the price for renting one of his homes and I didn’t think to ask. Would it even be acceptable for me to agree to such an offer?”

“It would be acceptable but you cannot live there for free.”

“For that would be the same as accepting a gift, wouldn’t it?” Harry interrupted Bofur.

Then they proceed to explain what he could and couldn’t accept as the price for renting Ralec’s home. It would be shameful to pay to little but he couldn’t pay him to much either since he where currently unemployed and even as a helper in the kitchen or as a healer’s apprentice he wouldn’t have a large salary. If he chose to receive a gift, be it a quill, a tissue, jewellery or a palace, he would accept the suitor’s advances and they would then enter a period of courtship. A courtship wasn’t a biding deal but even then one shouldn’t enter one lightly. Harry could of course enter a courtship with Ralec and get to know him though the courting period. There was no time limit and the couple could choose to court each other for years before they reached a decision for marriage or break up.

“Harry, can I ask you how Khîm reacted to the presence of lord Ralec?” Bofur asked curiously.

Harry’s hand lowered the fork with food and he turned his attention to Bofur; “They didn’t really meet, Khîm was waiting for me out in the hall and he only saw us when we stepped out to go our separate way. But when I talked to him afterwards he seemed very upset.”

 “I’m sure he did,” Bofur examined, “I just want you to remember that Khîm is very young and he can be a bit rash, don’t be mad at him. When he saw you together with lord Ralec; a man of wealth, charisma, looks, with all the pretty dwarrowdams after him, he thought that we would be history to you.”

Harry smiled and replayed; “Khîm will learn that money doesn’t appeal to me. He doesn’t know me very well yet but I want us to be friends and some rich lord could never make me forget my friends.”

 

After dinner was done and every plate was cleaned Karga and Bifur took the half sleeping Bombur out of his chair and bid Harry and Bofur goodnight.

He stood to make them a small cup of tea while Bofur went through the papers.

“What do you make of it?” He asked, taking a seat besides Bofur and placing a little cup next to his friend while sipping of his own tea.

“It’s typical of the government to make everything so damn fancy and proper. When I applied for my job as a wood craver’s apprentice some years ago there was only one piece of paper, and look, now there is three. Bofur replayed, shaking his hat covered head.

“But luckily this is easily solved.” He said scribbling down his address which appeared to be a large sum of numbers, go figure. Then they discussed Harry’s birthdate. It was currently year 2791 and if Harry was or wanted to be 120 years old he would be born in year 2671, which was fine by him.  

With the paperwork done Harry knew that he could deliver them both tomorrow if he didn’t reach an agreement with Ralec.

Turning the lights off, Bofur showed him through the second door from the living room down a corridor. They had one bathroom by the end of the hall and four bedrooms. The bedroom first to the left would be Harry’s for the time being.

“Goodnight Bofur” Harry bid the smiling dwarf farewell and went through the wooden door into his temporary room.

The room was of the same dark marble like material. It was equipped with a metal framed bed, a chair with a small stone table, a rack for clothes, and a big cobber chest with two oil-lamps on top for light.

Harry dropped his tunic, pants, and shoes without any thoughts of weird customs to uphold. He turned off the lights and crawled under the duvet, letting the darkness surround him.

The first tears escaped him unwillingly but then he let them flow freely. He had lost all that he knew and loved most in the world. He was grateful for meeting this wonderful family of dwarrows, who took him in, gave him food, and sheltered him but for tonight he would mourn his loss. Tomorrow would bring a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry about the long wait, please forgive me!  
> Also, the response to this story has really blown me away and I did not expect this at all when I first started writing. I appreciate the support so much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first day in the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support!!  
> I hope you will enjoy this new chapter which has been a pain in the neck. I really couldn't have done this without you!

Harry found himself standing once more in the stunning entrance hall. This morning had not been without drama in the brothers’ household and he had been worried that he would arrive late to his meeting, not date, with Ralec. But now it would seem that he had come too early. Not that it mattered too much, because he didn’t mind looking over the fine details in the captivating hall. 

He ignored the bewildered looks he got from the few dwarves in the hall while he walked along the walls scanning their surfaces. He knew that he looked like he just tumbled out of bed. Although he had a new pair of trousers and a clean new shirt on the bigger clothes, from Karga, hung on his figure creating an unkempt image. That wasn’t even mentioning his hair, gods above. He thought that it would be easy to keep compared to his short wild bird’s nest but through the night it had tangled and turned into an absolute nightmare. 

 

Earlier this morning he woke up to someone knocking on his door. Looking up, he found fresh clothes by the door and his old ones from yesterday were gone. After having dressed, his boots secured around his feet, he had gone to the bathroom to relieve himself and freshen up. He had been shocked when he saw the image of his bed-shagged hair in the small mirror, above the bowl with lukewarm water. He didn’t like intruding on the family’s privacy but he would admit to have looked through every drawer in the bathroom for a comb. But to his confusion, he couldn’t find a single comb in the only bathroom of several long haired and bearded dwarves.

Unable to do anything about his hair, he left the bathroom after washing his face to join the dwarves in the kitchen. What greeted him upon his entrance to the kitchen were three dissatisfied dwarves arguing over what he assumed should have been their breakfast but was now only burnt black crisps.

What he gathered from their ‘conversation’ over the burnt food was that Bofur was to blame for ruining the second round of breakfast. Bombur, who normally prepared the families meals, had left in a hurry this morning to work. The king had had an unscheduled early meeting so the Royal Kitchen had been sent to work even earlier than usual to make sure the king was feed. That left Bofur, Bifur, and Karga with the chore of making breakfast that morning. 

Karga had made the first attempt to cook breakfast but that had ended in the bin much like Bofur’s was about to. Now Bifur wanted his try but Bofur and Karga argued against it since he was supposed to be even worse at cooking food than they were. 

Harry had then stopped their bickering by offering to make the food but his offer had been ignored in favour of questioning by the state of his hair. The dwarves had looked at his head in absolute horror not even noticing one of the empty frying pans over the stove beginning to emit smoke. 

He had only just uttered the words looking, comb, and borrow before they had taken him by the arms and seated him in a chair. Three serious faces surrounded him. Then with great embarrassment and difficulty the three dwarves proceeded to explain the importance of combs almost like they were explaining the importance of birds and bees. 

Harry was once again confounded over the stupidity of dwarfish traditions and courtesy. It was not polite in any way or form to ask for another’s comb, for the intimacy was only privilege to close family and one’s significant other. He would have loved to avoid the awkward situation between him and the three other dwarves but at least he could avoid a scandal in the marketplace. Without this new knowledge he would have shame himself by screeched through the shops for a comb. When dwarves came of age they would fashion a comb of their own making but before that time came, they would share with their parents. Perhaps if this had happened at a later time instead of in the morning, Harry would have found the situation rather funny. But now he could only take in the information his friends gave while blinking owlishly, meanwhile thinking, that he would visit Dale at a later point to acquire a comb for himself. By dwarfish tradition, one didn’t show ones comb to others and therefore Harry wouldn’t need to worry about Bofur, Bifur, and Kagar finding out that he simply just bought one manmade. 

But for now Harry was left with his two hands, ten fingers to comb through his wild mane of black hair. For a moment he considered using the fork before him which lay unused by the dining table as there had yet to be served any breakfast. Looking between the fork and his three friends Harry was sure that he could get away with using the fork as a comb for the rooms three other occupants was completely occupied with cooking. To increase their chance for success, the three dwarves had decided to work together but he could already predict the outcome of another ruined breakfast. 

Deciding to intervene in the kitchen affair, he left the fork and concluded that he could play the little mermaid at another time for his rumbling stomach could wait no longer. The instant he took charge, Karga, Bifur, and Bofur each breathed out a great sigh in relief and fell heavenly down in different chairs. 

After breakfast, he had had some time alone with a borrowed fork from the kitchen to tame his hair the best he could. So when he walked out the door to begin his first real day in Erebor he was slightly more prepared, he hoped. 

 

Taking a chance, Harry pulled his eyes away from the wall to risk a glance around the room. Trying to avoid eye contact with his ever watchful crowd, he looked for the tall silhouette with black hair and red eyes. With his search unsuccessful, he found himself staring once more at the impressive wall, as if it was the most fascinating sight, even after having already walked along the walls for two whole rounds. He wouldn’t say that he was normally a shy person who avoided contact with other people but the stares were confusing. How should he behave?

Ralec’s presence was announced by the small abrupt stop of conversation around the room.

“I’m sorry if I have kept you waiting for long, Harry, but I was suddenly required to attend a meeting this morning with the king.” 

“It’s no matter,” Harry replied as he turned around to face the dark headed dwarf, happy now that he wouldn’t have to walk another round. Ralec bore his well-groomed hair once more in a low ponytail. He had abandoned the rubies for gleaming white diamonds which decorated the lowest part of his hair and were woven throughout his twisted beard. He was once more clad in black but with a silver belt and heavy looking necklaces around his neck. 

Ralec gave a smile in return while lightly shaking his head. “No it is not. I wanted to see you and I should have ignored the king’s wish, he didn’t need me anyway. Nothing should keep me away from you abnâmul.”

“Please, Ralec, don’t get into trouble for my sake. I would hate to be a bad influence on you. I feel like I have enough attention around here already without laying shame to your name.” Silently cursing himself for looking like a homeless bum, he wondered why his appearance suddenly meant so much when it never had been of significance before. Technically, though he was a homeless bum. 

“You have nothing to fear in that regard, Harry,” Ralec replied amusedly while he let his eyes wander over Harry’s hair. “Now shall we see to it?” 

“Yes, let us go along before the king decides to interfere yet again,” Harry said as they started walking towards the door leading into the mountain. “Have you met with the king?” Ralec asked curiously.

“No, I haven’t even seen him,” he answered, ready to clarify further by Ralec’s confused expression. “But I’m starting to dislike this great king of Erebor very much. First, he ruins my friends, and my own breakfast, and then he delays you from meeting with me. If I didn’t know better I would say he was trying to ruin my day.” 

Ralec let out a deep short laugh and Harry couldn’t help but think he looked good with a smile to brighten his face. “The king can be a nuisance, I admit, but I don’t think that he, nor any other dwarf for the matter, would intentionally ruin your day, Harry.” 

“Of course not. He must have far more important things to do,” he replied in a light teasing tone. “Can I know where we are going?”

“We are going a level further down, both of the homes lie to the north side, very close to each other. They are perfect for housing one to two people,” Ralec replied as they turned down towards a staircase. “I hope that you will find one of them to your liking.” 

“I doubt that I would find anything to dislike, Ralec.”

Down the dark staircase with gold banister, they passed finely clothed dwarrows and dwarrowdams alike. Many of them acknowledged Ralec with a greeting or with a soft spoken, “My lord.” Harry too received smiles and more curious looks but they weren’t stopped. 

They walked past many residences and even more dwarves with different hair colours and styles. Some were more finely dressed then others with fur, silk, and jewellery, but it was easy to see that none of them missed anything in their life. 

They ended up walking through a giant tunnel-like hall with doors leading into houses on both sides. Gold metals and other glowing stones were crafted into the walls around the front doors. Ralec explained that each family could decorate the front of their homes with precious minerals and symbols to show skill, family name, and rank. 

Harry couldn’t help but notice that the further down the hall they got, the more impressive the beautiful displays became. Why would Ralec take him here, where he obviously couldn’t afford to live? He knew, of course, that Ralec was interested in more than his friendship but he had thought that Ralec was interested in helping him find a home instead of flaunting his money.

“Here we are.” Ralec stopped before a home decorated with emeralds and gold, coming together to form golden trees with green leafs. “My family and I use this home as a guesthouse for elven diplomats; the celling and doors are adjusted to their height. I had a feeling that you would like it.” Here he turned expectantly to Harry to hear if he was displeased by the offer of an elven settlement.

“Just by standing here I can say that it is more than I had hoped for,” he replied, stunned. “It’s beautiful. Shall we continue inside?” He might as well have a look before he declined.

Ralec brought forth a key with more emeralds along the end. The door had no handle, so you had to use the key to open the door. Even though the door was big enough for a man or elf to walk through without bowing down, the keyhole was placed a little lower than normal.

They stepped into the living-room and he immediately noticed a big red and golden rug that covered most of the floor. 

“I had my men here yesterday to replace all of the furniture. This house only has three rooms: the bedroom, bathroom, and this living room, which also has a small kitchen. We discovered that our elven guests like to bring and make their own food, so we had it made very recently.“ Ralec finished off by closing the door.

It was impossible to see that the kitchen was of newer make. The workers had cut through solid rock to expand and make room for a kitchen further into the far left corner. The cabinets and countertop were a bit high but it was a beautiful and open kitchen. Some of Ralec’s men had even left a small stool on the smooth kitchen floor for his sake. The celling was lit by flowing light, making the room appear bigger than it was. Along the walls were bookcases and two light brown sofas backed up into the closest right corner with a dark wooden table in front. In the far right corner were two doors which would lead to the bedroom and bathroom. 

Instead of walking further inside the small, comfortable home, Harry turned to Ralec. “I can’t possible pay for this and you should know that.” Harry stopped his words here hoping that Ralec would explain his thoughts on the matter. 

“You don’t need to pay me much and before you start.” Ralec continued as Harry was about to open his mouth to disagree. “I will earn more lending it out to you then not lending it out at all, no matter how much we will agree on you to pay.” 

“You’re right,” Harry slowly agreed. 

“Good. Now you will have to see the rest of this house, then I will show you the other one and you can decide on which one you want.” 

“There is no need to see the other house Ralec. I would be happy to live here.” 

Ralec, who had started to walk towards the two doors, turned around and looked confusedly at Harry. “You don’t want to see the other house?”

Giving the confuse dwarf a kind smile, he lightly shook his head and explained, “I like this house already and it fits my needs perfectly.”

“You truly are something else ,my abnâmul.” Ralec came back and held out the emerald inlaid key. “But can you agreed on a price?”

“Me? Excuse me, but I’m not the one being difficult here and I…”

Their conversation went back and forth this way until they both came to an agreement. Harry couldn’t recall ever being so stubborn and he wondered if it was another new dwarven trait.

“Let me be the first to congratulate you for moving into Erebor,” Ralec joyfully said as he held out his hand for Harry to shake. 

Harry took the hand to give it a light shake. “I couldn’t have done this without you, thank you, Ralec.”

“You are most welcome, dear Harry. Now what do you intend to do for the rest of the day?”

“I will have to get a job if I want to stay here so I want to send in my job application first. Maybe I’ll have to change the address now that I have a place of my own.” Harry let go of Ralec’s soft, warm hands to fish the application papers up from his trouser pocket. 

Taking the offered quill from Ralec’s hand, he changed the address code per Ralec’s instruction. “After that I’m to meet with my friend Karga at the market to purchase some clothes.” 

“Would you oppose of me escorting you on your way there?” Ralec asked taking back his silver pen and stuffed it back in his black shirt. 

“You would have no choice, for I will not let you leave me here on my own,” he replied back with a light laugh. “I still don’t know my way around, and I would be more comfortable if you walked with me.” 

Red eyes lit with delight. “I will be the perfect escort and make sure that you’ll be able to find your way back and forth in this mountain.”

While Ralec led Harry toward the department dealing with employment and housing he made sure to explain where each hall and staircase they passed led to, naming each area. He even explained the underground system, which consisted of marks along the walls of Erebor indicating where you were and where you could go from there. They were normally used by the blind who could find their way around the gigantic mountain with only a hand along the walls, but the marks could be used by everyone. 

After Harry left his application form, receiving glaring looks from the horrid teller lady on his way in and out of the department hall, Ralec bid him to find the way towards the marketplace. Harry was certain that he could do it and he knew that Ralec wouldn’t let him walk astray. 

Harry’s radiant smile stopped many dwarves short on their journey around the mountain. He became more confident after each successful turn, and by the time they reached the marketplace, he had only made one wrong turn and he was beyond happy by his accomplishment. 

“I did it!” Harry erupted with a blinding smile in place. “I can’t believe I did it, thank you so much, Ralec, you have been a real help since I meet you yesterday.”

“It is nothing my smart, kind, and beautiful Harry.” Ralec then took his hands in his and kissed the back of each hand. “I have enjoyed my day with you greatly but I will have to get back to business. I will see you again soon.” 

“You are welcome to visit me at any time, Ralec. I’ll see you later.” With that they parted ways and he was left in the big hall. Booths filled with clothes, foods and other necessities could be seen in all directions. It was a marvellous sight and he couldn’t wait to explore the markets’ wonders. 

Luckily, Karga found him before he wandered too far off. They walked through the colourful booths talking about their days. They bought two dark trousers and three differently coloured shirts, a black, dark green and one white, from a kind dwarf named Baldr who gave them good discount. Kagar also brought him some food, soap, along with others necessary household items. Harry was especially interested in a shop selling herbs. Some he could name but there were others he had never seen before. The shop owner was a dwarf by the name Gion, who was more than happy to answer his curious question about the foreign plants and their medical uses. 

By the time they had gathered everything he needed, Karga was ready to go home and rest after a long day. She was looking forward to seeing his new house, but she thought that he should have some time to settle before she came to visit. Before they parted, Karga told him that Bombur would like to see him in the kitchens tomorrow after he had had his breakfast, so he needn’t hurry. Then he was handed the green tunic he had arrived to this world in, before she gave him a firm shove in the back and left with a laugh as he stumbled.

Instead of going back home, he walked back to Dale to visit Thorsten. Thorsten was happy to see him again and ended up giving him a brush, even though Harry was willing to trade it for the only thing he really owned, the green tunic. Thorsten insisted that he’ll take it for he, with only a few grey hairs, had no need for it and his wife, who had been dead for four years, had no use for it. 

Harry stayed with Thorsten for dinner and had a wonderful evening with the gentle man. It was wonderful to have a friend in Thorsten, who was human, and he needn’t worry that he would do something wrong. 

After a long day, he stepped through his front door and breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door. He had walked through this day without cursing trouble and he thanked his lucky stars for that. After stocking the food in the kitchen, he went to see his bathroom and bedroom. The bedroom consisted of a double bed with a small table at the side, a big closet, and a single bookcase. The floor was covered in a red and brown rug and the celling was, again, lit by flowing light. Folding his new clothes and putting them in the too big closet, he took the soap and brush and went to the bathroom for a bath. 

The bathroom was bigger than the bedroom and had heat in the stone floor. The shower stall was big with glass walls and rough, uneven stone walls. A giant showerhead hung from the ceiling and there was even a stone bench inside. The toilet was of the same dark marble material as everything else. Then there was the dark wooden table with two dark green marble bowls for sinks with cobber taps, above it hung a mirror with a gold frame.

Setting his things aside, Harry stripped himself naked and admired his hairy, muscled body in the mirror. He knew that he was a bit smaller than what was normal for dwarven males but he didn’t care. He had never before felt so masculine.

Apart from the crazy traditions, Harry already loved being a dwarf.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who left a pile of dirty, smelling socks outside my door?

Why had he been reborn as a dwarf?  Although it was far too early in the morning to ponder about such matters, Harry couldn’t help but wonder. In which unearthly law was it stated that he should be transported to another universe into the body of a dwarf? Flipping his eggs into the air he contemplated if all people were reborn when they died, or if it was only the case for wizards? He had never heard of another case like his before and he wasn’t even reborn a new born but awoke in a grown body, likely dumped by Morgana, in the middle of nowhere.

Eggs, toast, and sausages done, he slowly ate his breakfast, taking care not to drop some of the greasy food on his newly bought fine clothes.

It was definitely not the norm for people to wake in another body, in another time, or, in his scenario, most likely another universe, in the manner that he had. He had, after all, talked to dead people before and they hadn’t mentioned anything like this to him. Nodding thoughtfully while chewing his eggs, he came to the conclusion that he had most likely been cursed in his life as Harry Potter.

It should not have come as a surprise to him that he wouldn’t even have a normal death. After all, he had touched countless dark magical objects, been hit with colourful curses, and eaten clearly poison or potion induced food from enemies or fans alike. It would be difficult to tell the exact reason for his current situation as he had lived an eventful life.

Eating his last bit of sausage, he cleaned the used utensils and kitchen’s table tops before going for the door.

Yesterday when he had returned home, he had left his boots at the door and walked around his new home barefoot. Before he went out, he made sure to secure the leather binds around his black clayed trouser legs to keep the boots on his feet. Stepping out the front door, he felt something soft under his left foot as he turned around to close the door behind him. What he found when he looked to the ground was a dirty red sock. Confused as to how it ended up before his door, he bent down and picked the red clothe up by his thumb and index finger. Having brought it up in the air to study further, he brought his attention back to the hall to look for the red sock’s owner. The moment his attention was averted from the sock, he discovered, to his own horror, that he had the attention of nine surrounding dwarves.

This couldn’t be happening. He had done something wrong but he didn’t know what. He was frozen to the spot with the sock still held between his right thumb and index finger. None of the other dwarves moved or said a word to him. What should he do? Drop it and pretend that it hadn’t happened or confront the other dwarves about the problem?

From the look he got from the nine dwarves, he could tell that they weren’t mad but more likely shocked by his course of action. One of the nine particular stood out from the crowd. A fierce red haired and bearded male dwarf, slightly older than himself, he would guess, was trying to hide his hot red face behind the broom he was holding. When the red-head felt he had Harry’s attention, he almost dropped the broom before he rapidly started sweeping the already shining, clean black floor.   

Having most likely found the red sock’s owner, Harry steered towards the red-headed dwarf, who now stood open mouthed like the great Merlin himself had, fallen from the skies and declared him king of the universe.

“I believe this is yours.” Harry held out the sock to the dwarf. “I’m sorry that I stepped on it,” he said as an afterthought, for he had clearly done something wrong by tradition to gain this much attention. The dwarf didn’t say anything in return, he was still clearly in shock, but he did hold out his hand to take the sock back. When the red-haired male still failed to utter one word, Harry added a “goodbye” and left down the corridor.

 

He reached the Royal Kitchens without incidents, having made extra sure he didn’t step on abandoned socks on the hallway floors. The smell that wafted through the open kitchen door and followed all the way up and down the outside corridor was heavenly.

Taking a step inside, Harry immediately spotted the big dwarf in the giant messy kitchen. Don’t get him wrong; it wasn't like a dusty, cobweb-filled, potion dungeon, it was just chaotic. Bowls with dough, fillings, and liquids stood on every table surface, parts of different animals, cooked and uncooked, lay on plates and boards around as well, along with different kitchen utensils. If it weren’t for the heavenly smell in the air and the sight of finished dishes, Harry would have doubted that anyone was capable of making food in this kitchen.

Bewildered by the state of the room, he watched on as Bombur walked around, taking his time, tasting the contents of each bowl. When one of the kitchen lad’s failed to deliver a bowl to Bombur’s hold, Bombur looked up for whatever held the lad attention and discovered Harry’s presence.

“Harry, my friend, I’m so glad that you came,” the big dwarf announced. All other things forgotten Bombur walked towards him, wearing a big smile. “Everyone,” Bombur called loudly, “this is Harry, the dwarf I told you all about.” Now that they stood side by side, Bombur continued to introduce him to the staff. “Harry has agreed to work with us for some time and I want you all to help make him feel welcome.”

He was quickly put to work, left at one of the overloaded tables with the job of making pies. He was happy that he had had the foresight to buy a barrette of iron for his hair yesterday with Karga, otherwise his hair would have been all over the place. Already, loose strands were falling around his face from the knot on top of his head. 

At first, the other workers were hesitant to interact with him, why he didn’t know. But after asking for assistance finding different ingredients and tools they loosened up to him. Soon, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about him, not that he minded, and he found himself making fast friends with all of them.

Working in the kitchen was like working in a complete madhouse; tools and food flew through the air by calls between the different tables. Soon he was joking with the rest of them and his laugher brought joy to the whole kitchen.

 

::::::::::

 

He had been living in Erebor for a total of six days. The mountain’s many halls emitted warmth similar to the homely halls in Hogwarts but in Erebor he had no need to worry about magical death-traps, disagreeable slytherins, nor snappy teachers. He would miss his family terribly much, but he knew that they wouldn’t want him to mourn them and forget to live his own life.

Through this period, he had invited Bifur’s family and Sanix to dine at his home and it had been a joyful evening. He had had some trouble getting his house in order before the family arrived. To his confusion, he would open his front door each morning and find different coloured socks lying all around his door. It seemed that there were more lying around for each day he walked in and out of his house. It had taken him half an hour to remove all the socks that day, but he didn’t want Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Karga, and Sanix to see the mountain of dirty, smelling socks.   

He had also met up with Ralec two other times to spend time talking and walking around the mountain. When Ralec came to his house he didn’t comment on the many smelling socks lying around and, in turn, Harry didn’t say anything either. The fact that Ralec didn’t comment on the socks calmed Harry down a great deal, for surely then it couldn’t be anything serious. He had, after all, also seen other doors where a couple of socks lay around, much like with his own, and he concluded that it must be some kind of dwarven prank.

He had yet to receive any words from the Hall of Healing so he continued his work in the jolly kitchen. His dishes had obtained much praise from the cooks and others who had tasted his cooking.

In addition to his problem with the socks, he also spent much time brooding over his hair or lack of beard. To dwarves, he discovered, hair meant a big great deal and a lot of effort went into styling one’s beard and hair. Having had short hair most of his life he didn’t, for the life of him, know how to handle long hair. The last couple of days he had seen hair braided and twisted in ways he hadn’t known was possible; some even went so far to braid their eyebrows which left him standing some time each day in front of the mirror wondering what to do with the hair he had. Harry did not have a talent for weaving hair; he hadn’t even been able to do a normal braid. Therefore, the long black mane often went into a knot on top of his head. Or it was gathered like today, by the front locks of hair to the back of his head with his barrette.   

 

On this morning he walked his usual trip to the kitchen, a twenty-five minute walk from his front door. Yes, it was a terribly long walk and, so far, the only disadvantage of living in this huge mountain. On his way to work, he greeted many of the mountains inhabits; the redhead with the red sock, who still hadn’t said a word to him, who apparently lived across from him. Then there was the baker’s boy, Bor, who walked around in the mornings with different deliveries, the silent dwarf, Nori, who styled his hair and beard like a six pointed star. Harry still didn’t know what he did for a living but they crossed paths time and time again till Harry found the courage to talk to him. Then there were the many different dwarves stationed as guards along the halls, with whom he share few words with every day.    

Reaching the entrance to the kitchen, he gave the wall a light knock. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Good morning, Harry,” Bombur greeted along with many others. “You have arrived at a perfect time, Harry. Would you please help carrying the dishes to the royal wing? We are behind schedule getting everything there.”

“Of course I’ll help.” Taking a tray in each hand he went back out the door. Luckily the royal wing lay on the same floor and not so far away from the kitchen.

“Back so soon, Harry?” One of the guards he had passed moments before asked him in a teasing tone.

“I’m afraid we’re behind schedule delivering the royal’s breakfast,” he replied over his shoulder while he continued walking quickly down the hall.

“You better hurry then, I have heard that the king is in a right foul mood without breakfast and I wouldn’t want him to direct his anger at you, Harry.”

Harry didn’t reply back, having already turned down another corridor. Several corners later, he reached the beautiful entrance to the royal wing; two giant gold doors stood open, leading into the royal’s quarters. Guards in armour stood by the golden gate following Harry’s figure with their eyes as he passed them.

This section of the mountain was truly fit for royalty. The corridors got bigger even though there were far less people passing through this area. The floor was covered by a dark blue rug, patterned with golden thread and through the dark marble like stonewalls ran veins of gold naturally like a tiger’s stripes.  

Turning left at another corner, he came to an abrupt stop when he collided with another body. Luckily, he didn’t drop any of the trays but the other servant didn’t have such luck. The dwarf named Datrour, another worker from the kitchens, had been carrying a stunning silver can which had, up until this point, been filled with water.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I should have been more careful.” Datrour was quick to set the empty can and hand him a piece of cloth to dry himself with, taking a tray from Harry in the process.

“It’s not your fault alone. I was in a hurry and didn’t watch where I was going.” Harry used the cloth to dry his face, not bothering with his clothes, which were already complete soaked.

“It’s a good thing you bumped into me and not the king, right?” Harry said with a dry smile as he went to deliver the cloth back to Datrour.

“Indeed,” Datrour replied with a slight reddening in his cheeks. Harry suddenly became very aware of his state of dress. His white shirt, now completely wet, hung to his body, and by Datrour’s reaction, he would guess that it was easily seen through.

In a hurry to have Datrour’s attention elsewhere Harry handed him the other tray. “Would you deliver these for me? The royal family is soon to arrive for breakfast and these have to be on the table before then.”

“Of course I’ll take them for you, Harry. You can go home and change I will tell Bombur why you are delayed.” Datrour turned to walk away. 

“Thank you, Datrour.”

“Anything for you, Harry,” Datrour called back to him.

He watched Datrour until he was out of sight. He didn’t make a move towards his house. How could he? He knew that he gathered much attention in Erebor but he didn’t feel the need to make himself even more noticeable by walking half naked back to his house. If only he had had his magic he could have spelled his clothes dry but he had to come up with something else.       

Hearing voices coming closer, he spurred into action and went to the nearest door and crept inside. Sanix had once told him that the royal wing was supposed to contain hundreds of unused rooms and he really hoped he hadn’t intruded on someone’s privacy by entering.

The voices kept coming closer. He couldn’t get himself to move away from the door, his glance was locked on the handle, praying that whoever was outside didn’t take a step inside. The voices moved past the door and his eyes closed in relief. He knew that he ought to step back outside the corridor but his curiosity got the better of him. Harry was already inside, so what harm would a small peak do? Turning his back to the door, he found himself standing in a grand bedroom of the size of his whole apartment. The room was mostly dark, for very little light escaped past the door from the hallway. Even with the little light it was easy to see that the room was unused; as all the furniture was draped over with white linens. Uncovered were only the fireplace and a silver stand with firewood and a door to the right.

At the sight, his mood brightened. He knew what he had planned was wrong but he couldn’t help but walk closer with the intention to light a fire. If all went according to plan he would have a fire going where he could dry off his clothes, maybe he could even find a book in one of the bookcases under the linens to entertain him while he waited. Then after his clothes had dried he could turn the fire off and leave like nothing had happened.

He looked through the silver stand for the smallest branches he could find and gathered them in the fireplace. It took him some time to get the fire going but he had found matches enough for it to be of no consequence. Adding some bigger branches to make the fire bigger, he went over to the other door which hopefully led to a bathroom. Inside, he did indeed find a bathroom for which he searched for some towels he could wrap around himself so he wouldn’t have to sit naked for a longer period.

Opening and closing different drawers he found some clean white towels. He also found lots of different jewellery; necklaces, earrings, beads, rings, and even a very beautiful white comb he didn’t dare look at too long. 

He made his way back to the fire with a big white towel tucked under one arm. The fire was still going strong and the flames ate the dry wood hungrily, lightening up the whole room. He laid the towel by the fire and started stripping himself from his wet clothes.   

Unlacing the leather straps around his shins, he took the boots off first and sat them by the fire, proceeding to strip himself from his pants. He unfastened the buckle and rolled the wet fabric down on his legs. Bending down to lay the pants as close as possible to the fire, he dropped them from his hands in fright when the door behind him suddenly burst open.

Heavy quick steps bore the stranger further into the room. “What is the meaning of this?” a cold deep voice sounded sending shivers up and down Harry’s spine. “Which lord would dare send you here in hope of winning the favour of the king?”

Harry spun around when he realised that he was in the presence of the king. Big, strong, and tall, almost like the mountain itself, stood the great king of Erebor. Taller than any dwarf Harry had seen before the mountain king had dark, slightly curly, black hair and beard which fell modestly un-braided around his head, ending a little past the grey fur-trimmed neck along the jacket. The king had a handsome face; a clear jawline, the strong chin, his big, slim, pointed nose, and the dark thick eyebrows. What captured his attention the most where the cold, clear blue eyes which held him in place and he struggle to explain himself, “I.. I did not.. I do not know..”

“You need not play innocent. I know your game, temptress.” By now the king stood directly before him and Harry could feel the blue eyes burning into his skin even though he looked at the ground.

“I’ve grown tired of these attempts and I will not stand for it anymore.” A big strong hand fell to his head and grasped a big chunk of his raven black hair. “I do wonder where your master found you,” the king said, talking more to himself then to Harry, as he proceeded to drag him out the door by his hair. “He must have paid a great deal for one as you. Then again, you are willing to show off your body so shamelessly that you’ll have to be experienced and used to this business.”

Harry could do nothing in the king’s strong grip; he could either follow awkwardly along on bent legs or be dragged along the floor like a doll. Harry followed mutely after the king. He had one hand placed under the king’s to relieve the pressure on his scalp, the other holding a towel together around his legs and feet. It was pure luck that he instinctively had reached for the towel when the king grabbed him. Without, it he would have been incredibly exposed for all to see as the king walked them around the corridors. He had no idea where they were or where the king was leading him of to. From his small viewpoint on the floor he could only see the king’s metallic clad boots.

The moment the corridors become more populated, whispers and hushed voices filled the air. Dread and horror swamped Harry’s thoughts. It didn’t even occur to him to plea for his innocence for he certainly had made a great offence for the king to be this absolute in his anger. He didn’t see a point to ask for mercy.

They had reached one of the bigger halls, Harry didn’t know which, heavily populated by many dwarves when the king let go of his hair. Harry fell down to the floor, legs curled together under the towel while the king walked around him gathering the attention of the crowd.   

“Listen to me, my good people of Erebor.” The king’s deep voice filled the whole hall, making all chatter from the surrounding crowd fall silent. “Prostitution has been banned from these halls for several decades and has been declared against the law.”

This didn’t sit well with Harry at all. It had to be a misunderstanding from both parts, why would the king mention prostitution otherwise?  

“It’s equally forbidden to practice as it is to participate in. Someone in this mountain has seen it fit to send ‘gifts’,” a gold covered hand indicated towards Harry, “to win my favour. But I say this, to all of you as my witness, this will not go unpunished.”

Cold blue eyes turned back to Harry’s form as the mountain king walked towards him again.

It was now or never. He would have to speak now or else something terrible would happen to him, he was sure; it was unmistakeable from the look in those clear blue eyes.

“Please wait, it..”

”Be silent filth, your words have no meaning in these halls.” The king rudely interrupted as he once more reached for Harry’s hair.

“No, you’ll have to listen,” Harry demanded, pushing the gold covered hand away, preventing it from reaching its target. “This is all a mistake…” He didn’t get to finish before the hand he had pushed away seconds before fell back over his face.

Momentarily stunned by the hit and the taste of blood in his mouth, Harry couldn’t prevent the king for taking hold of his raven locks.

With the grip in his hair, Harry was force to sit on his shins to be on level with the king’s hold. With his face high in the air, he couldn’t avoid seeing the crowd of dwarves who had gathered around them. Many looked to him with shock written all over their faces, others bore looks of disgust and pity. None of the faces seemed familiar and this both calmed and worried him.

“As punishment for his crimes, this dwarf will be banished from Erebor and his hair will be cut of so his shame is for all to see.” The king announced this loudly as he drew a dagger from his belt at the hip and pressed it towards Harry’s hair.    

“Let this serve as a warning to all who dare go against the law.” The king’s voice sounded from behind Harry.

Threads of black silk fell down around his vision and he was suddenly filled with a burst of anger to the point where he couldn’t stay silent.

“I’m guilty of none of the crimes you accuse me of. This isn’t justice. You people are making a terrible mistake! Let go of me you stupid dwarf!” Harry raged out.

“My King.” The call, ran loud and clear, quickly gaining the attention of everyone but most importantly the king, who stopped his action. Harry recognized that voices and was relieved when he saw Nori step through the crowd.

“Thorin,” he continued in a much lower voice as he walked closer, “let go of him. I know this dwarf and he isn’t involved in that business, he’s innocent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I simply had to share it with you guys!  
> Let me know what you think ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's pov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started on chapter seven, I wrote it as I usually do, from Harry's perspective, but I just wasn't satisfied with anything I wrote. This chapter will be from Thorin. Please enjoy!

Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under The Mountain, The King of Durin’s Folk, Slayer of the white orc, along with other grand titles, were having a terrible week. Whatever fool who would dare to claim that being king was an easy task would have Thorin’s strong grip guiding that person’s stupid head up a place where the sun didn’t shine.

With a groan, the mountain king slipped out of the dark blue silk and left the cover of his comfortable bed with a silent prayed to the Great Maker, that this final day of the week would prove bearable.

The people of Erebor loved their king, for he had proven time and time again himself capable of ruling the greatest of the dwarven kingdoms.

At first, not everyone thought so highly of him. When Thorin came into the throne, he had had trouble with the oldest of the council’s members, the advisers of his grandfather.

Through the years they had worked against him at every turn, faulting him for his young age. They had done their best to persuade the rest of the council that he lacked knowledge of running a kingdom, to which they had at times succeeded, but only for the first few years.

Now, the old dust-gathering crones could hardly say a word against him without looking foolish. Still they would try, for they would not let Thorin win the game they themselves had started.

Running his hand through his hair, he loosened the knot from behind his head, letting his hair fall to rest around his shoulders. The heated air didn’t bother his half-clad form as he walked through the room. His dark haired chest was left exposed as he went to groom his hair.

Seeing himself in the mirror as he led the comb into the rivers of black, he wondered if the crones had any tricks planned for today’s meeting. Their suggestions for improvements would always differ, often harmless proposals which he easily reasoned against; they always wanted to raise the taxes, then they had argued against fertilizing the land around Erebor, calling it sacred, even though their rising civilization could benefit from a secure food source. Then there was the ever-asking question of marriage, which he would rather not think about this early in the morning.

He could already feel his mood sink, despite having the love of his people and a healthy and prosperous kingdom, because today awaited yet another meeting. He was immensely proud of his people for their achievements, kinship, and loyalty but he could have lived without the stubbornness, especially in the council meetings.

Setting his handmade golden comb aside, he started braiding his two signature braids, starting just before his ears. He didn’t care much for his own hair which, compared to the rest of his family line, was rougher and wilder. Dis had mentioned on several occasions that his intended wife would have to be a most curious being to be able to bear and manage his wild hair and temper.   

His family was like a ray of sunshine awaiting him every morning, his sister, brother, brother in law, and little nephew meant the world to him. The few minutes he had with his family at breakfast each morning bore him through the tough days.

This week had been the roughest yet and he knew without a doubt who to blame. Jarkar was the unofficial leader of the resistance movement against Thorin’s rule, not because he was the oldest of the council members but because of his cunning.

Jarkar wasn’t trained as a warrior but as a diplomat. He didn’t have a warrior’s mind and didn’t deal with his enemy the same way a warrior dealt with conflict; through swordfight on a battlefield. Jarkar was not bloodthirsty enough to attempt to have him assassinated or brought down in a fight. Instead he sought to have Thorin humiliated and wanted to drag the name of Durin through the mud.

Now that Thorin had gained the respect and admiration from the majority of the council, Jarkar and his lackeys couldn’t course any serious damage. For the longest time they had managed to cause Thorin his fair share of shearing headaches and left Balin cursing and feeling cross after some of the more troublesome meetings.  

But a change of tactics had proven much bigger problems than a simple headache.

Glancing one last time in the mirror, as he finished clasping the final bead around his right braid, he wouldn’t verbally admit that Jarkar’s change of tactic was affecting him but the signs of tiredness in his face were obvious.

Walking towards his wardrobe, he hoped that he could avoid any unpleasant surprised today.

Having opened the dark heavy wooden door to his closet, he started sorting through the mass of fabrics, already feeling the beginning of frustration.

Yesterday he had dismissed all the servants from his room. He had even talked to the head maid, who is in charge of all the servants, to make sure that none were to enter his room from that day forth. Though Brunhilda, the head maid, undoubtly found his order odd, she hadn’t questioned him on his decision; not even to know who then would keep and clean his chamber.

Struggling over heaps of wool, silk, and leather, the king was starting to doubt how wise his rash decision to dismiss the servants who would pick out his outfits each morning had been. He excelled at many subjects and skills but he was utterly lost when it came to picking out clothes. Thorin didn’t possess much talent for fashion; Frerin and Dis’s teasing had made it clear that he had no eye for it.  

Reluctantly he dragged a set of trousers and a shirt out that he had used a couple of days ago. With his big wardrobe it would seem a strange choice, but at least it would prove bulletproof from receiving any weird glances from his subjects.

 After all, fashion was important for his image. Right now, he was falling apart by the seams and it was clear from his hasty decisions that he could no longer think straight, but he didn’t want it to show from his outer appearances.

Jarkar’s new scheme was in some ways ironic. Years prior, Thorin had fought to ban prostitution from his kingdom. Erebor was prosperous and only in demand of labour because of their small population, it didn’t prove too difficult for the individual dwarf to find a well-paid occupation.

Dwarves where not the most fertile of races and dames were scarce, he wouldn’t abuse the few dwarrowdams they had by paying them for sexual favours. When it later became clear that the men and women use by these organisations had been abducted at a young age to learn their trade, Thorin’s new law passed. 

The whore house had been closed down and all traces of pleasure slaves were gone, but that had only appeared to be on the surface, for they still found occasional lawbreakers. Thorin knew that he hadn’t stopped the meat-market completely, not for lack of trying. The punishment for being associated with prostitution was grave, you could be the buyer, the prostitute, or the pimp and the penalty would be the same. They had helped a few former whores, who had been unwilling participates and offered protection and help to all the unfortunate victims who came forth.

He didn’t know how but Jarkar had somehow managed to assemble a group of willing whores to go after him. He had speculated on the subject so many times now that he automatically grabbed the coat by the door and slung it over his shoulders as he walked out in the hall, still brooding over the issue.

He had been beyond shocked when the first whore, a big breasted woman with spectacular golden, curly hair and sparkling honey eyes full of hidden promises, had cornered him in an empty corridor. They, the whores, always caught him alone with plans to tempt him, whispering about unimaginable pleasure while trying to cling to his form. In those moments, quite conveniently, a guard, servant, or citizen could be heard approaching. So far, he had not been shocked nor tempted enough to miss the approaching steps and voices of others, succeeding in regaining control over the situation.

The six women he had captured and questioned had revealed nothing of their associates or background, making it impossible to accuse Jarkar. He had had their hair cut of in the privacy of their cell, banished them, and then had them escorted out of Erebor’s lands when it became clear that they wouldn’t speak further.

These incidents had remained hidden away from the public eye and only been discussed in the privacy of council meetings. Thorin didn’t want to trouble his people with this personal attack against him and thus told nobody but his family and council members about being targeted in the foul scheme.

After another failed seduction attempt yesterday, in his own personal chamber, it seemed Jarkar couldn’t use this strategy successfully any longer, for it was clear that he was an unwilling participant. But how, he hated the fact that his personal chamber, his safe heaven, had been breached by a stranger. He was possessive by nature, a trait shared between most dwarves, and while he owned and ruled Erebor he couldn’t, in truth, own it completely. All that he owned, the halls, grounds, the treasures, the lands, were to be shared between all of Erebor’s citizens. His forefathers, including his grandfather and father, had all had the same troubles that he had with the crown, the problem of sharing. It was a terrible burden, a burden said that only the line of Durin could handle, for the voice of greed would whisper and sing its sweet song; the treasure was rightfully his and should be his alone.

As quick as these thoughts came to mind they would be gone again. He would not break; he was a dwarf made to endure in even the most difficult of times.

Heading towards the royal dining hall, already appreciating the brilliant smile his nephew, Fili, would send him when he would arrive, he nodded acknowledgment to the servants who all bowed and backed against the walls in the royal wing, moving aside to give him space in the already spacious halls.    

Taking another turn, he went to a familiar door, his amad’s old room. It was a daily ritual for him to visit her room, standing among her preserved furniture, belongings, along with her fragrance that still clung to the room. He would only stand there for a short moment to draw strength from the happy memories he recalled from his childhood with her.

His eyes caught a flicker of light, which he momentarily dismissed as nothing, but when it came again, he knew with certainty that his mother’s room was occupied by intruders, for neither Dis nor Frerin stepped a foot in there.

Hot, red, boiling anger, filled every part of his body. It flowed through his veins and electrocuted his nerves.

Banging through the door, which opened into familiar surroundings, Thorin was greeted by an unexpected sight: a round, firm backside, strutting high in the air, followed by a pair of pale, lean, muscle-filled legs, which were dusted with a fine layer of hair. The desirable rump was illuminated by the firelight from the fireplace and was only covered by a white, wet material that clung to the round twin globes.

None of the other whores had exposed themselves so shamelessly. He stood temporarily stunned in the doorway before the anger resurfaced again and he stepped further into the room.

When the whore, for surely that’s what he could only be when he displayed his body with such ease, turned around, Thorin was greeted by a face, one of Mahal’s finer creations.

 The Great Maker had crafted and formed many wonders, and in the eyes of the dwarves no other could outdo his creations. And the being in front of him only proved this fact further.

Captivating emerald eyes, shining and sparking with light, which only the finest of stones would possess. They were an unusually rare sight from the common brown, gold, and black eye colour. The imposter had raven-wing black hair, waist long, and he couldn’t find a single braid in sight. There were no beads of family, rank, accomplishments, or marriage, not even metals or stones for decoration.

The strong, unmarked face, could at first look be mistaken for the face of youth, but, though it was a rare occurrence in their history, Thorin could easily identify the body of a bearer; a male dwarf capable to have children.

Where and how the emerald abnâm had managed to stay hidden from society, he did not know. A bearer would, at his birth, be well-known and celebrated by the whole dwarven race.

What a waste, trained and used, the signs of ruin were clear. He bore no mark of hard work or battle on his body, his skin was soft looking like that of a new-born. He was but a tempter, proficient only in the work between the sheets and, by the look of it, he worked there a lot. Lean, clean muscles on wide shoulders instead of the customary huge arms that came from swinging a sword or a hammer. He had a flat, well-kept stomach, full thighs, and small, bare feet. A true temptress.

It felt like hours had passed since he first looked into deep green eyes but only a few seconds had gone by and reality suddenly stuck. Remembering the situation, the reason for this chanced meeting, he demanded to know who would dare to send him here.

Mad with anger when his question wasn’t immediately answered, he was fuelled with rash decisions. Emerald Eyes, only stuttered the first string of what would have been words of an apology, he didn’t even struggle when Thorin grabbed a hold of him, a vibrant sign of his guilt, like that of a thief caught by the guard, he knew what fate awaited his transactions.

Having a firm hold of his silken locks, he walked with steady steps through the corridors. Lost in his own thoughts and theories, Thorin didn’t even notice the shocked dwarves he met on his way.

Thorin would make sure once and for all that the old council crones wouldn’t be able to find willing whores to go after him no matter the price they would offer. He would make a good example of Emerald Eyes and simultaneously show that he had his people’s support.

Reaching his destination, he judged Emerald Eyes guilty in the act of prostitution with a crowd of his subjects as witnesses so the word of his act would reach every corner of the kingdom.

He would admit that the final act of struggle surprised him. He didn’t think that the whore had it in him to resist, but he dared to smack Thorin’s hand away, like he was the naughty child.

He didn’t know why this surprised him so much. The whore was obviously empty minded, nothing but a pretty façade use to getting his way with his bed-mates.

The hit his hand delivered felt satisfying and when his knife cut the first strands of black tresses, he knew that he shouldn’t feel this deep gratification.

Before his blade had pierced more than a few locks his hand was stalled by the call of Nori’s familiar voice.

Nori’s form broke forth between the masses, his normal unemotional face filled with worry. He was about to command an explanation for the interruption when Nori beat him to it.

“Thorin,” Nori exclaimes with a lowered voice as he walked closer, “let go of him. I know this dwarf and he isn’t involved in that business, he’s innocent.”

Nori had only been his Spymaster for a few years but there couldn’t be a person more suited for the task. Thorin trusted Nori with his life even though Nori had a dark past. Before Nori had taken up the post, he had caused a big problem for the wealthiest in Erebor’s halls, Thorin included. Be it hidden secrets or treasures, nothing was safe from Nori’s grasp. Even to this day, after Thorin had pardoned Nori from all his pervious crimes, there were still many who thought that he should be locked behind bars. His best friend and brother in arms, Dwalin, still had a big thorn in Nori’s side after he had failed to capture him through his thieving years.

“Are you completely sure?” Thorin could hear himself ask, his grip still strong on the black hair. He held onto it with the same deep, desperate hope that Nori this single time was in the wrong. He could not have made a mistake, there was no misinterpreting what he had witnessed in his amad’s chambers; the dwarf had clearly tried to seduce him.

“Yes. He has no part in it and neither is he acting on his own.” Nori’s answer may not have been the most detailed but there was no need for details at the moment and Nori knew that. Right now, what really mattered was for Thorin to restore the damage he had made in a very public setting; details could come after.

As soon as Thorin loosened his grip, Emerald Eyes hurried to his feet, his dishevelled form rushing to take place beside Nori. Not even with the wild hair, the angry flaming mark on his cheek, and the white towel around his form could his undeniable beauty be deterred.

“I told you that it was all a misunderstanding and you would not listen.” Even though, Emerald Eyes didn’t raise his voice, the hall was deathly silent and his words found their way to every ear.

“You have humiliated me, insulted me, raised your hand at me, and frightened me with your irrational behaviour. If this is how the king of Erebor treats his people then I do not wish to live here.”

Thorin became overwhelmed by the deep sense of shame that filled him. It had been decades since he last felt this lost and confused. This time, though, it wasn’t because he had disappointed his father by foolish behaviour in a history lesson. Instead, it was the aftermath of much severer circumstances. Here, he could not afford to let time smooth this over and gather himself in the confines of his room, for the crowd was growing ever restless by his silence. A few shouts of agreement, turned into stumping boots and cries for justice.

It may not have been Emerald Eyes’ intention, for his focus was sorely on Thorin, but his words had affected the crowd, much to Thorin’s great dismay.

Like a spell, the noise quieted down when Emerald spoke again. “While you may have acted unreasonably you shouldn’t stand with the fault alone. I did intrude upon your property and for that I’m deeply sorry. Breach of property is indeed illegal but I do not think that I should be treated this unjustly nor accused of prostitution.”

He felt the weight of the hundred eyes resting on his form, staring expectantly at him. Now, he could only apologize for his wrongdoings and hope that Emerald Eyes wouldn’t demand an impossible restitution.

“I have dealt you a great wrong, a wrong I can’t hope to repent by a mere apology.” Breaking eye contact, Thorin lowered his head in a slight bow. “At the moment, though, words are all I can give you. I, Thorin Oakenshield, apologize and promise to atone for my wrongdoings by you to the best of my abilities.”

Here, he lifted his face to gaze into stunning greens. “In the face of what I’ve done, your crime is already forgiven. It is I that will be in your debt until I have repaid you in kind.”

“That will not be necessary.” Thorin wasn’t alone in his shock. Emerald’s sharp replay had stunned the crowd, even Nori, who glanced worriedly at him.

“What do you mean? You must want compensation for what I have done to you.”

“No, I don’t want anything. All I wanted was for you to apologize. Now I want nothing from you.”

What game was he playing at? He said that he didn’t want anything and refused compensation for his loss of hair, dwarves always had to have their payment. This wasn’t going in his favour. If Thorin should have a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his people he would have to settle the debt.

Was this some kind of twisted revenge? Not that he could fault Emerald Eyes for wanting vengeance for his inexcusable act. He had sadly dug this grave all on his own, all because of his temper: Jakar would be dancing when he heard news of this.

“Can I know the name of the person who has such a forgiving heart?” Thorin asked wearily, still confused about Emeralds’ intentions.

“I’m Harry,” he said in a shy greeting.

He had been stunning before, no one could deny that, but with that shy smile Thorin’s breath was simply stolen away, even though, the smile was slightly askew and didn’t reach his eyes. It was obvious from the polite attitude that he was hoping to overwrite their horrible first meeting.

“There must be something I can do for you,” Thorin persisted, whilst taking a step closer. He wanted to be sure that he could right things between them after his horrible first impression.

“Right now,” Harry replied, stepping back all the while, his hand nervously running through his uneven hair, “I don’t want anything other than for you to leave me alone.”

“That is completely understandable,” he could hear himself say, letting his hand run over his coarse beard in thought. After a hesitating moment, he added. “Know that you may come to me, at any moment, should you have a change of heart.”

“That is very kind of you, your majesty,” Harry replied, but his focus wasn’t on Thorin anymore. Instead, he looked awkwardly around, caught by all the attention they held, which Thorin had temporarily forgotten about.

“I would like to go home now,” Harry said, as he turned away from Thorin, drawing the conversation between them to an abrupt close.

“Would you walk with me home, Nori? I have something I would like to talk to you about,” he then asked, to which Nori gave a nod of consent. 

Thorin didn’t object to Nori leaving his side. He knew that he would come to him at a later point, but he watched Harry leave with mixed emotions. This morning had been terrible, he would be lying if he said otherwise. He had, after all, committed a terrible crime and possibly lost the trust and respect of his people. Harry may have brought on all sorts of bad tidings but Thorin knew that he would want to meet him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some of you may be disappointed in Harry’s lack of anger towards Thorin. Just so you know, I don’t plan to let Thorin escape his terrible offense against Harry; he will be punished (for lack of a better word). Next chapter will also cast some light upon Harry’s thoughts about Thorin’s actions against him.  
> Also, I know that I have touched a heavy subject in this chapter, that is, prostitution. Thorin’s opinion is in no way my own and I want you all to know that I don’t mean to offend anyone with my words in this story!!!  
> I love all you guys for the wonderful support!! When I first started writing I would never have expected anything like this, for this have completely overthrow my expectations. Thank you all so much!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing in this mountain makes sense!

A few hours earlier that day, Harry had wished he would be able to perform a single drying charm on his wet clothes. Now, he had lost count of the many times he had wanted to do spells and charms.

The once spacious and homely corridors of Erebor suddenly felt too crowded. He knew that he attracted attention on a daily basis but his improper state of attire made the following eyes weigh heavier on his form.

Today’s incident had made him hyperaware of his surroundings and he knew he was overly exaggerating his situation. To be reasonable, it was highly illogical that the population of Erebor had suddenly expanded to the double just because of Harry’s state of dress.    

He wasn’t wandering around naked and he knew that he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of, but he would have been grateful for a simple “notice me not” charm.

Yet another wonderful discovery he had made about the dwarven life was that they, males and females alike, went commando. A discovery Karga had introduced him to when they had first gone out shopping together.

It didn’t bother him and it had been a surprisingly good experience. Of course he had, at first, been slightly uncomfortable about not wearing any underwear but he had quickly adopted the custom.

It had proven to be unusually comfortable to walk without undergarments. But now, that only a towel protected his modesty, he misses the extra layer. The towel, which he still held tightly onto, was the only thing shielding his lower bare form from the people of Erebor. He briefly wondered if his bare feet were considered a more intimate body-part then his hanging manhood.

To preserve his dignity he had to leave the towel to pool along the floor to cover his feet completely. This had the unfortunately effect that he couldn’t walk any faster than necessary to avoid tripping over the hanging fabric.

Nori, who had followed Harry willingly, had taken the lead and steered them through the corridors, not that Harry minded; he was too busy looking at the floor, trying to avoid eye-contact.

Harry was grateful for Nori’s company. He would have had a hard time taking this walk alone and Nori, who Harry was sure hated all the attention, still bore with his slow pace and took mind to set an equally steady walk beside him.  

Daring to take a peek up from the smooth stone floor, he caught a site mark on the wall. From the mark Harry could tell that they were walking away from the royal wing and towards his home. Confused about their current destination, he stopped and voiced his thoughts.

“Should we not go back to get my clothes?”

“I think it would be best not to,” Nori answered. When he didn’t stop but continued to walk away, Harry quickly followed.

“You may have intruded once already but I see no need to do so again.” Nori glanced at him with an amused little teasing smile.

“Therefore, I will make an arrangement to have someone deliver it back to you later so you won’t have to cause anymore mischief.”

“Is that so?” Harry mused good-naturedly. If Nori thought that Harry would just lie down and be teased, he had another thing coming.

“Yes, I do believe that you are right. But, there is no need for the pot to call the kettle black.”

“What?”

Harry didn’t doubt that pots and kettles were common kitchen tools but it was apparent from Nori’s answer that he didn’t know the phrase.

“What I mean to say,” he continued, “is that you have been following me around.”

If Harry hadn’t already suspected Nori of shadowing him then Nori’s reddened cheeks were more than enough of a confession.

“Who knows, how many laws you have broken tailing me?” Harry pondered aloud, making sideway glances to Nori.

“My, my, Harry, are you sure that you want to pursue a job in the Hall of Healing?” Nori playfully bantered, not at all deterred by being called a law-breaker. “With your skill of observation you could make good detective work.”

“Ha, so you admit it then?” Harry exclaimed. “We both know each other, yes, but not on the level you portrayed before half the people of Erebor moments ago. Also, I never told you that I applied for a job in the Hall of Healing.” 

“Indeed, you have caught me red-handed,” Nori admitted, holding his hands palms up, in a guilty gesture. “What do you plan to do to me now? Did you take me aside to deal with me in private?”

Letting a laugh escape because of the absurd notion, Harry elaborated. “Not at all. To be completely honest with you, I did not want to walk this trip home all alone.”

And it had been quite the clever idea; he had almost forgotten that they weren’t alone in the vast corridors.

“I will take that as compensation, if you will, I’m quite possibly spoiling your image.” He looked to Nori who only smiled in return.

“Also,” Harry continued, “I wanted to thank you for speaking up in my defence. The king didn’t heed my words and I’m scared to think what would have happened to me had you not interfered.”

“It was nothing. It is my duty to serve the king and I truly feared for his safety. You would have too, if you could have seen yourself in that moment,” Nori joked, partly to cover up his unease over Harry’s gratitude.

When he thought about the handsome king, he was lost. The king had acted completely irrationally and insulted him most cruelly but somehow Harry felt it was his fault. If he hadn’t been vain about his appearance the whole incident wouldn’t have taken place. It wouldn’t even have mattered if he had walked home with his clothes soaking wet, it wasn’t like he was anything special; people wouldn’t have cared.

Thorin had seemed deeply sorry about his actions and while he may have insulted and manhandle him, he wasn’t worse for wear.

“What do you intend to do now?” Nori asks suddenly, breaking Harry away from his train of thoughts.

“What do you mean?” he inquired.

“Well, the king owns you a huge debt and you said that you did not want restitution thereby taking his opportunity to make amends away. I was just wandering how long you plan to let Thorin suffer? In a day or two the whole mountain will be calling out for his blood.”

Dumbstruck, Harry came to an abrupt stop and this time Nori didn’t continue on but stopped beside him; waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Oh by Morgana’s tits, what have I done?” Harry asked himself horror bound; his free hand came up to cover his face in a sorry attempt to hide from the whole situation.

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

When the king had dragged him away, he had thought that he was to be carried off to prison. He hadn’t resisted for he had, after all, broken the law by illegal breach of property. When the king didn’t drag him to a cold, clammed cell but had instead drawn a knife, he had been momentarily scared for his life and thought that he would be executed like a thief in the middle ages.   

None of that had happened and Harry couldn’t stay mad at Thorin. The whole thing was absurd; having his hair cut off wasn’t really a big deal for him and it could hardly be called a punishment.

Thorin hardly deserved this fate. When he had first travelled to the mountain with Bofur, Bifur, and Sanix all those days ago, they had all talked about king Thorin with great admiration. Harry had ruined that. Even if it was unintentional, he had still ruined Thorin’s image in the eyes of his people. 

“I have to go back and apologize.” Briefly, forgetting his state of undress he turned around in the hallway to walk back the way he came. But he was stopped by a hand to the shoulder.

“Harry, you cannot go back,” Nori explained softly.

“But I have to,” he said as he turned to face Nori. “I have no intention of leaving king Thorin to this punishment. I will have to tell him, tell everyone that it was a mistake.”

“You cannot do that, not without worsening the situation. What he did to you was unforgiveable and even if you, as unbelievable as it is, forgive Thorin, he will still owe you a debt. You cannot go back on your words now people will just think that he has threatened you.”

“No, I cannot accept that, I have to make things right. What should I do Nori?” He felt horrible and from the worried look on Nori’s face it clearly showed.

“First, I think we should get you home,” Nori said kindly, while he steered them in the right direction.

“Then you must know that there is nothing you can do to right the situation. I am sorry Harry but it is all in Thorin’s hands now.”   

“How can he compensate for a, supposed, unforgiveable act? Please tell me that I won’t have to willingly accept money or material goods. I won’t do that!”

“No, he cannot just pay you off, that would be dishonourable for both of you. There are only a few possible retribution methods, each of which have to be handled very carefully. He can choose to gift you with a highly prized family artefact, he can give you land, offer you his hand in marriage, or fulfil sevel...”

“NO, no, no, I will not marry him. How does that even count for retribution?” Harry interrupted, brows furrowed together.

“No fears, dear Harry, I do not think it will come to that,” Nori explained calmly. “It would be considered a great honour to marry into a family with such a noble lineage as the Durin’s. By taking your hand in marriage, Thorin acknowledges that the shame your hair symbolizes has no meaning.”

Harry seriously doubted that he would ever make heads or tails of dwarfish traditions. He could see neither sense nor logic in their customs. Even though, he was a living breathing dwarf, he suspected that he would never come to understand these traditions.

“So, since marriage is off the table, he will give me either land or relics of personal value?” he asked.

“No and yes,” was Nori’s quick answer. “Because Thorin is king he cannot simply give you land. Essentially everything he owns also belongs to the people of Erebor. I know that you do not like it Harry, but if you want to put an end to this mistake you will have to be accepting to whatever Thorin decides; be it artefacts or fulfilling favours.”

“I don’t like it but of course I will do it,” he mumbled softly, “will you please tell Thorin that I am so very sorry for…”

“No,” Nori interrupted. “You do not have to apologize to Thorin. He let his anger cloud his judgement, it is his fault.”

“Still Nori, I want you to tell him that I did not intend to put him in this difficult situation. I did not know what I condemned him to.”

 

By the time they reached the corridor Harry’s house was stationed in, Nori had reluctantly agreed to deliver his message. He left with a final nod and disappeared back the way they came from and Harry suddenly realised that he had completely forgotten to ask how Nori knew Thorin.

He would be sure to remember to ask the next time he caught him.

Now, that he was alone, his footsteps quickened with intent to escape the many glances that were being thrown in his direction.

Though Nori’s words had been reassuring, he couldn’t help but be worried. Somehow, from his perspective, it seemed very unlikely that the people of Erebor would turn their backs on the king for something as trivial as hair. He understood that hair, wherever on the body it may grow, was very important for the dwarves. But Thorin had apologized and what more could Harry ask for then a heartfelt apology? 

He feared when the news reached the whole mountain. Surely, he would be declared a villain and thrown out.

Should he pack his few belongings together and leave the mountain peacefully while he still could? He didn’t get much time to think things over, for standing before his golden front door stood a group of anxious dwarves.

There was twisted fingers, pacing, and furrowed brows among the jolly family that so selflessly had opened their home to him. Harry would bet his life that they had all rushed to his home, in a great hurry, when they had heard the news of his meeting with the king.

Karga still held onto a piece a chalkthat she undoubtedly had used in her lesson. Then there was Sanix, who had a blunt training sword in hand and drops of sweat on his brow; a result from the hard training he had been in the process of doing. 

It was Karga who saw him first.

“Oh Harry, you are alright tha.. What in Mahal’s name are you wearing?” At the sound of his name, the other dwarves looked up but Karga had already closed the space between them and tackled him in a bear hug, the piece of chalk forgotten and left on the floor.

“Let us get you inside and into some proper attire,” she continued.

It was obvious that the group hadn’t heard all the details about what had happened. They had only heard that he had had a run in with the king; a very angry king.

Showing the group inside his home, Harry made a quick trip to his room to drop the towel and change into a set of spare clothes. Back in his living room, his friends had all found themselves a seat with cups of hot beverages passed out between them; waiting expectantly for his story.

It wasn’t an easy feat retelling the tale. He was, more often than not, interrupted by his friends’ disbelieving cries and questions.

“He is as mad as his forebears!” came the angry statement from Sanix, by the end of his tale. Sanix had shot out of his chair, kicking it back in the process, and was standing with clenched fist, staring helplessly at the floor.

“I trained for his course, believe in his rule, but he is just another madman,” Sanix said disbelievingly. “I won’t forgive him for what he did to you, Harry.”

Sanix’s eyes met Harry’s before he stormed out of the room.

He stood up to follow but was cut short by Bifur.

“Leave him be, Harry, he needs to cool down and sort out his thoughts. He will come around.” 

He wasn’t happy about it but sat back down in his seat just in time to see Bifur handle Bofur a small brown leather pouch.

“What is that?” Harry asked curiously.

“Oh, I’m just reaping the benefits of a very unfortunate outcome,” Bofur answered.

Bringing forth the brown pouch he had been about to put in his trouser pocket, Bofur showed the pouch’s golden contents.

“You see dear Harry,” he said, as he drew the strings around the pouch back together, “I made a bet with my dear cousin.”

To this, Bifur gave an unsatisfied grunt. “I still think that it’s a draw,” he said, his arms folding over in a sour pose.

“What did you bet about, was it about me?” Harry asked. He already had his suspicions about being involved.

“It is actually a bet we made a long time ago, a couple of days after we meet you,” Bofur answered. Suddenly forlorn, Bofur’s hand came up to lightly rub at the side of his chin. He sent Harry a strained smile before continuing his explanation.

“I wagered that the king would give you… an extravagant welcome, a welcome that would draw a lot of the public’s attention. Bifur had something more private in mind.” 

“Though, none of us would have expected this to happen,” Bifur added.

Shifting awkwardly in her seat, Karga hesitantly asked, “Would you allow us to see the damage done to your hair?”

They stayed with him to dinner and the topic, thankfully, shifted to something else. It was quite the interesting evening with embarrassing childhood stories and jokes. But the distraction was rather short lived. When the group departed that night, he lay awake, heavy with doubt, about how he should proceed tomorrow.  

 

::::::::::

 

When Harry had first arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and taken his first real steps into the wizarding world together with Hagrid all those years ago, he had been congratulated and consoled from strangers; wizards and witches alike who had known him and his history before he himself had learned it.

His private life was but common knowledge and could be purchase and read in the history books at Flourish and Blotts or the weekly newspapers.

He really should not have been surprised by this outcome.

Now he felt like his eleven year old self again; confused and tongue-tied by the consulting dwarves that swarmed him every time he stepped foot out of his front door.

Like all those wizards and witches had done, the dwarves supported and commended him for his actions against the king. And while Harry couldn’t say that he was ungrateful for the support he was also partly blindsided.

He had not fully believed that Thorin could lose the support of his people because of a few strands of his hair. So, when he had woken up the morning after, he had hesitated to open his front door; expecting to be chased out of the mountain by an angry mob.

When he finally gathered his Gryffindor courage and swung the door open, he didn’t find an angry mob on the other side.

The heap of socks, in every imaginable colours and sizes, had doubled in number since yesterday evening.

Somehow this sight alone laid rest to all his worries and warmed his heart. This custom, whatever it meant, was a positive sign, of that he was sure.     

Dutifully, he made his usual trip to the kitchens for another day of work. All activity seemed to stop in his wake; conversations were cut short, hurried steps down the corridor came to a standstill, and when he reached the kitchen all his colleagues stared, gobsmacked.

Like a broken dam, everything came pouring out at once; each yelling dwarf overlapped each other. They had all heard the shocking news and were angered by the king’s unreasonable behaviour. 

They all agreed that it had been in his right to deny the king his chance for forgiveness; for a king should know better and he would have to learn that lesson.

But how that haunted him! He wasn’t perfect, far from it, so what had he done to deserve such support? They all acted like Harry was some kind of hero that had showed them king Thorin’s true colours.  

Hero or not, he had been forced on holiday, by Bombur’s leave, and now he had nothing to occupy himself with.

He had spent some days over at Bofur and Bifur’s toy-store; conversing with the cousins and Khîm when they didn’t have customers. After three days of continuous visits to the shop, Harry stayed at home on the fourth.

He always had a good time in his friends company but at the store he always felt that he intruded upon their work and was a bother. Very often the shop would be completely full, surprisingly only with adults, leaving all three of the shop’s staff occupied.

By the end of the fourth day, Bofur came by after working hours to see if he had taken ill. When he had explained himself, Bofur had only laughed and said that it was a shame that he hadn’t been by the shop today, as they hadn’t been busy at all.

Still, Harry thought it would be best if he started visiting after working hours.

Out of sheer boredom, a sigh escaped him. He hadn’t even bothered to roll out of his bed today. The previous day he had spent on his far less comfortable couch so he thought the bed a much better choice today.   

He would go insane if he stayed at home one more day but he was tired of the attention he got whenever he stepped a foot outside.

Everyone was talking about him, to him, while discreetly stealing glances at his hair.  He had chosen to leave it hanging loose down his back which completely covered the uneven mess at the back of his neck.

To make matters worse he hadn’t seen Nori, Sanix, and Ralec since the incident.

What was that?

`Knock. Knock. Knock.´

Someone was at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that I’m incredible happy and flattered by all your comments and I do my best to write back and show my appreciation. But I do pose a question to those who writes to me. I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful but I feel like I'm repeating myself again and again. I love every review you give me; when you tell me that you like and enjoy my story I feel like I could fly!!! So what I want to know is, if you think that I should continue to write back to every comment? Or would it be okay if I only answered back on questions?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve read all of your comments with a big smile and a warm heart!!! I thank you all for the wonderful support and advice which has motivated me to finish this chapter in record time :D  
> Also, OMG I’ve 446 kudos!! That’s insane and I couldn’t have done it without you!  
> Please enjoy the new chapter.  
> Extra thanks to my wonderful readers Ravenshira and Of Stories Told!!!

`Knock. Knock. Knock.´

It took but a moment for Harry to realise that somebody was knocking on his front door. And that the knocking wasn’t just a product of his boredom.

His head shot up from the warm covers so quickly that he was hit by a wave of dizziness; yet another sign, that he had laid unmoving for far too long.

Jumping from the bed towards the closet to make himself presentable, he pulled on the first clean shirt and pair of leather trouser he could find.

When Harry was almost fully clothed, with the exception of his bare feet, the visitor made himself known yet again with a set of knocks.

“I will be there in a moment,” Harry called back as he looked around for his boots.

Remembering that he had left them by the front door he exited the bedroom and hastily grabbed the soft leather boots Thorsten had made.

Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, and Karga, who often visited him, didn’t knock persistently until he came and opened the door like this so it couldn’t be either of them. They would only knock once and call out in a light greeting to announce their presences before walking over the threshold. He didn’t mind their intrusion in the least. They were his only family in this world and so his home was also theirs.

“Harry, what are you doing in there?” came the muffled question from the other side of the door.

It was Ralec. Why had he come now?

Dropping the leather straps for the left boot, leaving the boot untied, Harry looked silently at the door. He didn’t understand why Ralec had decided to visit now and why he hadn’t heard from him in the days after his incident with the king.

He had spent more than a few minutes thinking about Ralec’s whereabouts, about why he hadn’t heard from him. He had been surprisingly saddened by Ralec’s unexpected disappearance. He wondered if his shortened hair made the difference between Ralec’s affection and his indifference, if it somehow made Harry unworthy in Ralec’s eyes. 

The problem was that he couldn’t tell. For him, hair was just hair and held no higher meaning, but he couldn’t with certainty speak for Ralec. He would like to think that Ralec saw more in Harry than his long hair but with his sudden disappearance, he didn’t know what to think.

Apart from sorrow, he also felt anger. He was angry at Ralec for leaving him so abruptly. He wanted to vent his anger, to open the door and shout to show his displeasure. He felt like a teenage once more, controlled by nagging hormones, but he would be rational and let Ralec speak. He could hardly call himself a young man and he wouldn’t let this new body get the better of him.

“Harry?” Ralec called out again, obviously confused about the long wait since he knew the layout of his small apartment.

But Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to stare persistently at the door as if it somehow could unravel this mystery. Whatever the reason Ralec had to turn up now, Harry was almost tempted to let it remain undiscovered.

But it was too late to pretend that he wasn’t home. He had already made his presence known and as a former Gryffindor it wasn’t in his nature to stray from unavoidable conflicts.

The moment Harry opened the door, Ralec stepped into his personal space and took hold of both his shoulders. His forehead came to rest on his, in a gesture Harry had often seen between two male dwarfs, and Ralec breathe out a great relieved sigh.

“I’m so sorry I could not be here for you sooner Harry. Forgive me.” Ralec leaned away to gaze into beautiful green eyes and in turn Harry could look into sorrowful red. Every ounce of doubt and anger in Harry’s mind waved.  The feelings in Ralec’s eyes spoke for themselves.

“Where were you, Ralec? I thought that you had broken off our friendship.”Ralec’s hand came up to crown of his head with the intention to let his hand glide through Harry’s hair, but he hesitated. His hand froze halfway through the motion and Harry suddenly became aware of the commotion outside his door. It looked like they had gathered quite the audience.  

With one share glance between them they closed the door and stepped further into his home.

“I had hoped that you would have been alright while I was away but it seems that you are incapable of not attracting attention.”

If it hadn’t been for Ralec’s teasing tone Harry would have been tempted to deliver a punch to Ralec’s all too attractive face. He couldn’t find anything funny about his situation and with arms crossed he replied dryly, “I hope you don’t mean to imply that I’m actively seeking out attention, for I very much detest that theory!”

Ralec gave out a smooth laugh. “Not at all.”

With his dark leather pants, black shirt with silver outlines, and a pale, almost white, thick, long leather vest that reached his knees, Ralec looked every inch of a wealthy dwarf lord. His fingers were as always enclosed in lots of bejewelled rings. His hair was pulled up in a high ponytail filled with hundreds of small braids and white stones, and his beard hung loose and straight down. Ralec’s constantly apparent arrogance made him an imposing figure but after several days in Ralec’s company Harry knew that there were much more beneath the arrogant surface.

“I take it that you did not get my message?” Ralec mused, almost like he had expected such an outcome.

“No, I never received any word from you Ralec, but you don’t sound particularly surprised by this?”

“That because I’m not,” Ralec replied with a wry smile.

“Well, would you care to explain what you mean, for I’m terrible confused.” Harry did not know what to think about Ralec’s silence, he seemed completely lost in his own thoughts.

“Abnâmul, I’m afraid that not everyone in this mountain is thrilled about my friendship with you.”

Disbelief crossed his face automatically. “Why would anyone care to sabotage your friendship with me? That makes no sense Ralec.”

“On the contrary, Harry, that makes perfect sense.”

 “I’m still not getting what you’re trying to say,” Harry said, taking just a brief pause in his rant to see if Ralec intended to clarify his earlier statement. When that didn’t happen Harry continued. “Well, since you aren’t going to explain yourself further, why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what you have been up to, hmm?”

Making a half-turn, he headed towards the open kitchen. “I’ll make us something to drink. Is there anything in particular you want?” he asked as he reached the kitchen counter.

 Taking the kettle in one hand, to boil some water for tea, he stopped to look around the corner when Ralec once again didn’t answer him. Ralec was still standing by the door, with disbelief and sorrow distinctly on his face.

“Harry, Your hair…”

Subconsciously Harry’s hand reached back to touch the shortened strands by his neck. “It’s not that bad. I don’t feel any different and you hardly notice that it’s gone when my hair is hanging loose like this.”

“But Harry it’s..” Ralec was unmistakably about to ramble the same tirade which Bofur, Bifur, Sanix, Nori and Karga had given him days before. 

“Please stop,” he said, as he held up his hand to halt Ralec’s speech. “I know what you want to say but I’m tired of talking about this subject.”

Filling the kettle with warm water and setting it over the gas stove to heat, Harry took a seat in the sofa. “I would much rather that we could forget all about it. Please Ralec, could we talk about something else?”

For a moment it looked like Ralec wanted to argue but to Harry’s great relief he didn’t push further on the matter. Instead, Ralec moved over to the couch Harry currently occupied and took a seat beside him.

“If it means so much to you, I will let it slide,” Ralec said, as he took hold of Harry’s hand.

Squeezing Ralec’s slightly bigger hand around his, Harry gave Ralec a bright smile in gratitude.

“Thank you. Can I know where you were these past few days?”

“I had to leave on urgent business to the Iron hills. Some of my mines there are almost empty and I had to decide if we could risk digging deeper or if they should be closed down. It’s not very exciting work but it has to be done by me, standard procedure, I’m afraid.”  

The sound of boiling water had him moving once more and he regrettably slipped his hand out of Ralec’s warmer one.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” he asked as he poured himself a cup. “Or perhaps some dark beer?”

“I’m quite alright without at the moment. I’m not feeling thirsty at all, I just want to sit here in your company.”  

Moving back around the dark wooden table with a steaming cup of tea in hand, he sat back down beside Ralec in the light brown sofa.

“I don’t have anything planned today, so you are welcome to stay as long as you like.” Blowing down into the cup’s steaming depths, he looked over the rim of the teacup into warm wine red eyes.

“You are truly something different abnâmul. I don’t ever believe that I have seen a dwarf drink tea before now.”   

Faking a shocked, hurt expression, Harry’s free hand came to rest over his heart as he mocked. “And here I thought that you would give me a real compliment, how you wound me Ralec. Wait a minute… Have you never had a cup of tea before? ”

“It is not a part of our culture or traditions. I suppose that you could say that I never been given the opportunity before.”

Thrusting his cup forward in an eager motion that almost made the warm contents fly out of the cup, Harry edged towards Ralec. “Then you’ll have to try. I guess, this explains why you don’t have any tea booths in the market and I had to mix the herbs myself. Anyway, it was good that I recognized some of the herbs, I couldn’t do without a warm cup of tea every morning.”     

When Ralec still hesitated to take the cup from Harry’s hand, he urged one more time. “Please try.”

Harry didn’t really think that Ralec would do it. But he tried the tea, and then grimaced, before placing the cup back in his hands. Harry had often heard that nothing could match the stubbornness of dwarves but so far he would say that dealing with Teddy, as a grumpy ten year old, proved the harder task.

“I can’t see how you can draw any enjoyment from this drink, it tastes like medicine if you ask me. You’re sure that you aren’t trying to poison me? Have you grown tired of me already dear Harry?”

“Not at all,” he replied with a smile, before taking several sips of the hot tea.

Ralec really was a handsome man, ehh dwarf. He was tall, with wide shoulders but still slightly smaller than Thorin. Ralec’s hair hung strait as if it had been ironed where Thorin’s curled and waved and while Ralec’s face looked soft and even, the mountain king’s had had laugh lines and a furrowed brow.  

If it wasn’t for Ralec’s company Harry would have smacked himself. Here he was thinking about the mountain king, once again. He wasn’t completely sure why the dark haired dwarf occupied his thoughts throughout the day. So far, he blamed his hormonal teenager body. But surely that couldn’t be the reason.

Ralec, who sat right before him, was also a very handsome specimen. Not only that, but Harry also knew that Ralec was a kind, funny, clever, and generous dwarf whereas he knew nothing about Thorin. 

He deeply regretted their first meeting which had ruined any chance of friendship between them.

But it was no use crying over spilt butterbeer. He would move on, and he certainly couldn’t ponder about the blue eyed king when red eyes looked so tenderly at him.

“Harry,” Ralec said, as he once more took hold of his hand and held it up between them. “I found something for you in one of the mines, in Iron Hill, something that I hope that you will accept.”

With his unoccupied hand, Ralec searched through his right vest pocket and drew forth a hazelnut-sized emerald-coloured diamond.

“If you want it, I could make you a ring or a bracelet with it. Anything you would want, I can make.”

Harry had never been interested in riches nor wealth. Before he reached the age of eleven, he had had nothing but a few broken stolen toys of Dudley’s, hand-me-down clothes that were far too big for him, and his three relatives. After his first trip to Gringotts he had discovered that his trust vault held more money than he knew what to do with and that it could see him fed and housed into his adult years. Then, when he came of age on his seventeenth birthday he had not only gained access to the rest of the Potter’s wealth but also the rights to all of the ancient house of Black’s possessions. At the age of seventeen he had been one of the wealthiest wizards alive. But that didn’t make him a happier person nor did it help him defeat Voldemort at the time.

But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t touched by the gesture. Every bone in his body sang with happiness; his fingers tingled and his toes curled. This wasn’t a half-hearted, spur of the moment act, like when they had first met and Ralec offered his silver pen.

“I have thought about this a great deal, Harry, and I would be honoured if you would enter into a courtship with me. I know that there is a connection between us and with time, care, and love this connection would be stronger than any forged alliance.”

Ralec’s eyes burned with passion and his hand held hot and firm against Harry’s skin. He wanted to, sweet Salazar, how he wanted to kiss Ralec and accept his proposal. The connection between them was clear and he knew that they in time would grow to love and care for each other. But. But he couldn’t with a light heart enter a courtship with Ralec when he, only moments ago, thought about Thorin.

He knew that the courting period could go on for years before the actual marriage found place. But he wouldn’t be unfair to Ralec nor fool himself when he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t ready for this kind of relationship with the dwarf lord.

He wasn’t ready to enter a courtship with Ralec.

In all the conversations he had with Karga, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, never had any of them mentioned the correct way of rejecting a courtship offer. He didn’t know if it had to be executed in a certain way; in a string of ceremonial words or through different body movements.

He had to follow his gut and be honest. Placing the cup of tea on the dark wooden table, he laid his hand atop Ralec’s; embracing it between his own.

“I can’t accept Ralec.”

Ralec’s proud, upright posture fell down in a slight slouch and the hope left his eyes. He didn’t enjoy watching Ralec’s sorrow, the emotion was very misplaced on Ralec’s handsome face and Harry couldn’t help but want to tell one of his horrible jokes just to see Ralec smile again. It’s was maddening to see this proud being brought down in defeat and the rest of his explanation fell out in a hurried speech; in the hope of making Ralec understand.  

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t feel the connection between us, for I do, but I’m not ready to take this big step. I still have insecurities about my new life here in Erebor and I want to settle into this mountain right. I want to have a job and understand the basics of dwarven culture and customs. I want to learn more about the world I live in, the history, the people, animals, and the lands. I know that you would love to teach me and show me all of these things. But if we are to enter a courtship, I want it to be about us, not about me by making our courtship into a teaching lesson. I know that I’m not good at being a dwarf and that I’m not very good at explaining myself to you right now… I hope that this won’t change anything between us.”

After the last words left his lips, he felt a pressing urge to duck his face down beneath his chin and hide. It wasn’t easy keeping eye contact but his Gryffindor heart refused to hide and scramble away from a difficult task.

His heart beat fast with the high from the adrenaline. Nervous and uncomfortable, he waited anxiously for Ralec to gather himself and voice his decision.

The green diamond in Ralec’s left hand, which rested on his thigh, was enclosed around fingers and pushed together into a tight fist. But the grip slackened and the hand was brought up to rest atop the others; with the palm of Ralec’s hand above the back of Harry’s with the diamond in between.

“I understand,” Ralec spoke finally and gave Harry’s hands a light, comforting squeeze to ease his worries. Their hands broke apart but Ralec still held the diamond out to him.

“I want you to take it Harry,” he requested again.

“Please Ralec, I can’t take it.”

 Even with the second refusal the diamond was still held out in an offering.

“Please, hear me out before you refuse me again, Harry?” When Harry gave a small nod of consent, Ralec continued.

“I cannot say or guess when you will be ready to take this step with me but I want you to have this diamond in your possession. My wish to be with you will not change and if you one day should want the same then all you will have to do is come to me, holding this.”

Here he took hold of Harry’s right hand and laid the green diamond in his palm.   

Shaking his head in disbelief Harry relented. “I can’t take something so valuable without giving you anything in return”

“You would not need to. It would make me happy if you would keep it,” answered Ralec softly. But Harry was still unsatisfied by the bargain which was, in his eyes, very unfairly divided.

Even if Harry felt out of bounds with the deal, it didn’t seem that Ralec felt cheated or unsatisfied. He was smiling once more and that fact alone eased Harry into accepting the diamond.

“If you really feel bad about the deal you could always give me a kiss to even the odds,” Ralec said in a humorous tone while he tilted his cheek to the side expectantly, waiting for a kiss to arrive.

Not even having thought his actions through before acting, Harry had already gasped each side of Ralec’s face with his hands and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was soft and innocent, only a brief meeting between their warm lips. It was just a peck. But the taste of Ralec’s air and the closeness to his person had him breathless when he pulled away.   

From the look of Ralec’s open, gaping mouth, he had not been expecting to be kissed at all and Harry felt his mouth break apart in surprised laughter by the dwarf lord’s surprised look.

Ralec was shocked out of his trance by the sound of Harry’s laugh and his mouth fell close in a silly smile. Switching the diamond with his tea cup Harry leaned back in the sofa and watched Ralec, who in turn did the same.

After some time Ralec asked. “Would I be too obvious if I said that it would be a fair deal if I could have one more kiss?”  

“Don’t tell me that you wasn’t satisfied by the one I just gave you,” he replied good-naturedly before drinking the last mouthfuls of tea.

“I can’t go against my baser nature and I realise now that I’m greedy when it comes to your kisses.”   

Whatever Harry had intended to say then got interrupted by a new string of knocks on his door. Sharing a brief glance with Ralec, who looked quite unhappy by the disturbance, Harry went to open his front door.

On his doorstep stood a round, young, male dwarf with blond hair and whiskers that weren’t yet grown into a full beard. The young dwarf was clearly as surprised by Harry as Harry was surprised by this unfamiliar face. When the blond dwarf didn’t speak and simply stood awestruck and red-faced by his doorstep, Harry lost a bit of his patience.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, I come on behalf of the department for citizens’ employment and housing, who would like to tell you that your application for a job in the Hall of Healing has been accepted.”

Having finished the practiced speech, the plump dwarf held out a letter, staring once more wide-eyed at Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry said as he took the letter and closed the door behind him. Somehow, he couldn’t help but feel like he had just meet Colin Creevey’s reincarnation. The dwarf version.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Ralec spoke from the couch, as Harry walked back to his seat.

Sitting back down with the envelope held between his fingers, he looked from the white folded piece of paper to Ralec and then back again.

“I can’t help but suspect that you are somehow involved in this.” After all, Ralec would benefit from Harry’s sudden change in work status; it would be one less obstacle between him and Harry.

“But I also find it hard to believe that you could work this out so fast from a spot on my couch. So for now, let us say that you are innocent.”

Ralec, thoroughly amused by his suspicion, shook his head from side to side; smiling all the while. “It’s highly coincidental but I rather believe that this is a clear sign from the great Maker.” Ralec took hold of his right hand to deliver a light kiss on his knuckles before he come to a stand.

“Harry, thank you for having me, it has been wonderful to see you again.”

“Are you leaving again?” Harry asked, confused, but followed after Ralec back to the door.

“I won’t be leaving this mountain for some time, I dare not leave you here alone,” he replied back with a teasing tone. “I will be back again soon. I want to hear about your new job when you get started but for now I have much to think about concerning our conversation.”

Harry reached for Ralec’s hand before he could open the door; he still had words that he wanted to say in the privacy of his home. “It was wonderful to see you as well. Thank you for being so understanding, it means a lot to me.”

“Abnâmul, I told you when we first met that you may ask of anything you want from me. My word still stands.”

He watched Ralec leave down the hall, completely ignoring all the stares from the passers-by’.

At the opposite side of the hall stood Harry’s fierce redheaded and bearded neighbour once more sweeping the floor.

Harry still hadn’t gotten the chance to talk, and maybe apologize for the whole sock incident, to the redhead. Every time he would approach the redheaded male, the dwarf would run inside his door and hide away.

It had been a total mystery for him as to why the redheaded dwarf swept the clean floor regularly. At first, it had looked completely pointless to sweep an already clean surface. But after Harry’s first week, in his new house, it didn’t appear to be a stupid pastime at all.  

Stretching, all around his front door in a large semi-circle which almost reached the opposite side of the wall, in the big hall, lay heaps of socks.

At first, this confusing custom had bothered him to no end but he had grown use to it. Now though, he was afraid that it bothered anyone else. It must be extremely irritating for the mountain’s other occupants to pass over a path of dirty smelling socks, to and fro.

Somehow, Harry didn’t doubt that his redheaded neighbour had foreseen this outcome and had sought to improve his broom sweeping skills while he could. It had been a really good idea to practice for now the poor dwarf had to sweep dirty socks away around his own door.

Harry had felt guilty about it plenty of times. He was reminded every time he opened his door but so far none had complained. He had once tried to ask his silent red headed neighbour if he needed assistance without luck.

Maybe he should acquire a broom the next time he went to the markets.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disappointed? I hope not!!! I know that you miss Thorin but he won’t be gone forever, I promised. As a small consolation, I gave you all plenty of drama and a kiss. Okay, so it’s with the wrong guy but it won’t always be ;) Thank you for reading, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!!  
> Also, check out my new story! :P


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hall of Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express my gratitude for the support I've received from you all!!  
> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments! My work has received 529 kudos... I'm moved to tears!

The Hall of Healing had a hint of medicine and herbs in the air that Harry found quite comforting.  Like any other medical facility, the Hall of Healing possessed this unique odour and housed and treated the wounded. But that was where the similarities ended. The silent hall was like no other hospital Harry had ever visited. 

There were no signs of running healers, no nurses who called for extra assistance, no tears nor cries of pain. Not even a single cough could be heard. All Harry could hear were the quiet whispers from patients and workers alike, reminding Harry more of his time in Hogwarts library than of a hospital.  

The Hall was vast and the whispers echoed in low murmurs, like monks’ prayers in a church. From the ceiling hung hundreds of thin wires from which long metal pipes were suspended. The pipes had two different functions from what Harry could tell. Dark crimson drapes hung from the criss-crossed pipes and divided the vast hall into many smaller rooms. In the pipes ran fresh, hot water which could be tapped from each of the small rooms and used at all times.

The floors were smooth and shiningly clean while the ceiling was beautifully decorated by various pictures of one man. The man had long thickly curled brown hair and beard decorated in different styles and with different beads in every picture. The pictures showed a story about how the man carved a group of little people out of stone with his hammer. The artwork was exquisitely done and Harry doubted that it was merely for decoration. He would make sure to get the whole story by the time he settled in.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. Should he leave his spot by the entrance? He had waited by the big, beautiful gold doors with red rubies for ten minutes and none of the healers had come for him.

Before he could decide, Harry saw something that he realised he hadn’t seen before in his stay at the mountain. Running towards him was the bouncing figure of a dwarf child, with smooth, chubby cheeks, big eyes, and wild brown hair. Tightly held to the child’s small chest was a stuffed warrior toy. The child was followed by two grown figures. One of them was obviously a healer while Harry assumed the other dwarf to be the parent from their similar colouring to the child.    

In all the time that Harry had been to Erebor, he hadn’t once seen a dwarf child before. He knew from Karga that the children she taught were very bright and active but other than that he knew nothing. He didn’t know how big her class was or how old the children were.

The little boy had such a beautiful mischievous grin that Harry doubted any parent had the heart to lock such a free spirit inside the confinements of home outside of school hours. Harry had heard that dwarf children were rare but he was shocked to discover just how scarce in numbers they actually were.  

The child’s wide black eyes found Harry by the entrance he was sprinting towards and his little mouth fell open in wonder.

The little boy forgot his first objective completely at the sight of something more interesting and he went hurtling towards Harry.

Harry was ready for the impact when the little boy ran straight to his legs and his small arms came clinging around Harry’s shins in a hug.  

The boy looked up from the height of Harry’s knees and his little face split into a toothy grin; the boy looked like he had just found the cookie jar. Harry couldn’t help but give a brilliant smile in return even though the little boy’s clinging grip and heavy weight left him very unbalanced.

“Garion! What are you doing?” The boy’s father abandoned his conversation with the healer when he saw his child around the legs of a stranger.

The little boy, Garion, loosened his grip around Harry’s legs enough to look back over his shoulder to his father, who walked towards them at a faster pace.

“It’s alright, he didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry said with a smile to the approaching parent in the hope that he could spare the sweet child a lecture.

“Look, daddy, look,” Garion yelled in excitement as he looked back and forth between his father and Harry. “Look what I found! Can I marry him?”

Surprised by the boy’s shocking statement, Harry’s head jerked down so fast that he almost lost his balance and fell forward. But Garion didn’t look back at Harry, instead, he was focused on his father, who had yet to answer his question.

“Garion, you little tyke, have you no manners?” the now grinning father admonished as he reached them and tugged his little son away from Harry.

“I’m sorry, father,” Garion apologised. Then he looked up at Harry again from beside his father and asked, “I’m Garion, son of Trion. Will you marry me?”  

Harry’s hand quickly came up to his mouth to stifle a laugh; he didn’t think that it would be kind to laugh at young Garion’s serious proposal. Instead, he went down on his knee so he could look directly into Garion’s bright black eyes.

“I’m honoured by your proposal, little one, but shouldn’t we start of as friends first?”

Trion smiled approvingly down at Harry and gave his son a small nudge in the shoulder.

Garion accepted Harry’s idea immediately and Trion had a hard time convincing his son to let Harry go. When they finally separated Garion’s happy farewell rang loud in the giant hall. “Bye, bye, Harry.”    

With Trion and Garion out of sight, Harry noticed that the brown haired healer that had accompanied the duo before was still standing there.

When the healer saw that he had Harry’s attention, he came forward with a polite fake smile and dropped his chin in a small bow. “Hello, Harry, I’m healer Gendry, and I will be your mentor through the coming years. I’m sorry for the long wait but dwarrows aren’t always the easiest patients.”

“That is alright,” Harry answered, before he gave a deeper bow in return. “I have been looking forward to working here; I’ll do my best to be a good student.”

“Shall we begin then?” Gendry asked as he gestured that they should venture further into the hall with his outstretched arm.  

 

After having spent five minutes in Gendry’s company, Harry could without a doubt say that Gendry was passionate about healing. Sadly, he could also say that Gendry didn’t have any skill when it came to teaching. Not only did Gendry lack the ability to communicate knowledge, he also lacked desire to do so. Harry wouldn’t call Gendry a bad person but he obviously thought himself too self-important to waste more time on Harry than strictly necessary.

Gendry strutted around the hall with his pastel green robes flowing behind him, billowed by an air of haughtiness while Harry trailed dutifully behind him. It was a lousy tour and Harry had to make sure to ask plenty of questions at each room to fully understand their individual functions and rules. 

From their light small talk between each destination, Harry gathered that Gendry was the newest addition to the healers. Harry couldn’t see the advantage of having the least experienced of the healers take responsibility for apprentices. But then again, there were a lot of things that Harry couldn’t make sense of when it came to dwarves.

The Hall of Healing had five hundred available beds at its disposal, which seemed ridiculous when the whole mountain in total only had twenty healers.

Erebor had a short supply of healers because of the lack of interest in the trade. When the young, uneducated dwarves had to decide between swords, hammers, or an herb grinder, the latter was seldom their choice.  

If Erebor went to war, how could they save five hundred wounded soldiers with only twenty healers? He decided to voice his question.

“I can’t help but wonder what our strategy is in wartime? How do we go about treating five hundred dwarves?”

“We are prepared for such situations,” Gendry answered as he continued down the red halls of velvet. “Dwarves have always lacked workers in the medical field and our stressed ancestors found a solution to make up for our small numbers.”

Gendry slowed his pace and stopped right outside a closed opening.  

“This next room is considered the most important room in the Hall of Healing,” he continued as he drew the heavy red cloth aside. “This is where we spend most of our day when we aren’t dealing with patients.”

The room was three times bigger then Harry’s whole apartment and smelled strongly of herbs. Along the crimson walls stood ten foot high shelves with dried and fresh herbs, flowers, and roots.  A big, cream, round, stone table took up the centre of the room and around it sat twelve working dwarves with lots of room for more workers.  

“We stock up on salves for burn, bruises, wounds, rashes and mixtures for fevers, poisons, and pain in a storage space of the same size as the entire hall. We also supply a pharmacy located in the shopping district. We keep thorough records of our use and supply of different herbs and salves. The more experienced of our healers also uses their time here on experiments for new treatments or better healing salves. And so with our big supply of slaves and mixtures we can effectively treat a big group of wounded patients in a short matter of time.”

Harry would still argue that this hardly seemed like an effective way. What if the patients were severely wounded and needed immediate treatment?

All twelve workers wore the same pastel green robe. They were all male and several years older than Gendry and himself, if their grey hair was any indication. They all respectfully paused their work to welcome Harry. The older dwarves were obviously quite enthusiastic to have new blood in their group. Hudon and Merak each said that it had been years since they last had received a job application. Tritukhan, Hergor, Dhuram, and all the seven other dwarves whose names, Harry had sadly already forgotten, all wished him welcome in their little group of herb-lovers.

While the others silently went back to their work in what Harry now knew was called The Green Room, Gendry and himself spent the next hour touring around the room.

“As you can see, this room is stocked with everything one could possibly need to create the medicine we use for our patients. You will not be tasked with the care of our patients before you have knowledge of every herb in this room. You are expected to know and understand each of their characteristics and uses.”

Gendry paused, his speech with a dry smile before he added as an afterthought.

“You will have all the time you need to finish this assignment. But keep in mind that as you are still an apprentice, you won’t get paid in this time period so I suggest that you study hard. You are more than welcome to study in here and to use the tomes we have. When the time comes that you’re confident in your skills, you can come to me and we will do an evaluation test.”

Assessing all of the high shelves around the room, Harry could clearly see why young dwarves avoided the subject of healing. From what he could understand, the dwarves possessed a natural understanding for everything of the earth. Rocks, minerals, and metals were a part of their blood, and it was understandable why they would revel in their element.

Since his rebirth, Harry had gained an unusual sixth sense for the earth’s crafty materials that had his hands aching for the hard, dirty work with a hammer. So far the task ahead lacked appeal but Harry wasn’t deterred; his mind and heart longed to heal. 

“The quicker I start the sooner I’ll be finished.”

“Indeed.” Gendry didn’t sound like he believed that Harry would finish the task anytime soon. Additionally, he couldn’t see the point in Harry’s misplaced enthusiasm. 

Left alone as Gendry went to join the others at the table in their work, it became clear why they made Gendry his mentor. It was probably the norm for it to take months for new apprentices to finish this part of the test. This, Harry assumed, was why the most inexperienced of the healers had to spend his time overseeing the progress.

Harry got to work immediately and decided to take a closer look at the shelves. So far he had been fascinated and frustrated by the differences between this world and his old, but in this subject, he prayed that their worlds didn’t differ.

He was lucky. As he walked around the room and looked over each shelf, he discovered that he knew the names of each of the flowers and herbs he saw. His happiness couldn’t be contained and as a result, his face broke into a brilliant which the other workers in the Green Room found it very distracting.

By the end of his search he had found fourteen plants that he had never seen before but that couldn’t put a dampener to his good mood.

He found himself a free spot at the working table and he had only just opened a book about the different flowers of Middle-Earth when Tritukhan enquired. “How are things going Harry? Do you need any help?”

Harry looked up from the old, worn pages to see that he had the whole company’s attention. He had a moment’s trouble finding Tritukhan’s face amidst the many surrounding. “I’m fine, thank you. Everything is going to be much easier then I first thought. I know most of these plants already.”

His answer greatly surprised the surrounding dwarves, who with sceptical looks went back to their work. All but Gendry. “That is very fortunate but I wouldn’t celebrate just yet,” Gendry drawled, from his own spot at the table. “It will take months for you to learn them all.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “I thought that I could take the evaluation test whenever I was ready?”

“You can but you can hardly claim that you are ready to be tested now?” Even though several of the dwarves still had their heads down, it was obvious that they weren’t absorbed in their work; they were all interested in his answer.

“No, I’m not. Not at this moment,” he hurriedly replied to Gendry’s smug face. “Give me and hour and I will be.” His chin lifted in a show of confidence which immediately turned Gendry’s face sour. “We shall see if that will be enough, Harry.”

The other dwarves merely shook their heads at the young pair’s antics, wholly amused by the rivalry. Harry would stake his life that the older workers already had a betting poll going about the outcome of his test.

He didn’t waste a moment more of his preparation time.

Tritukhan, had clearly betted in his favour; he was more than willing to show Harry their collection of plant and herb encyclopaedias.

Harry was skimming through book twenty-one when there was a minute left of his time. He had found twelve out of the fourteen he sought and as the seconds ticked by, he knew that he wouldn’t have time to find the last missing two. He sent a quick prayer to Merlin before he closed the book at the halfway mark.

Gendry was already approaching and as the last seconds ticked by, he had closed the distance between his and Harry’s sitting form.

“Are you ready?”

“More than I ever will be,” he lied while he subconsciously rubbed his left hand. Gendry didn’t notice the nervous gesture or he didn’t care as he turned around. Harry followed Gendry to the many shelves along the walls where Gendry proceeded to pick up a dried twist.

“What are the name and qualities of this piece?”

And so the questioning began. Every time Harry answered, Gendry would continue to another herb, flower or plant and hold it up between his fingers. With growing frustration, Gendry picked piece by piece but not even half way through the shelves the test ended for it was more than clear that Harry had spoken the truth.

Coins changed hands and Harry received many congratulating slaps on the back for his impressive efforts. Even Gendry seemed impressed, now that he knew that Harry wasn’t just for show. The day ended in good spirits and when he went home, it was with an armful of his own pastel green robes so that he would be ready for the next day as a true employee of The Hall of Healing.

 

::::::::::

 

The next morning, Harry had woken bright and early with a new sense of purpose. He had donned his working clothes, braided his hair into a single line which hung down his back and arrived with a big smile in The Green Room.

Most of the healers from yesterday had already arrived and were heads deep into their work. Like yesterday, the round table was littered with stone bowls filled with pastes and powders, and around the edges and pushes into the middle of the table, laid stacks of old books.

Gendry wasn’t among them and had clearly yet to arrive. But before Harry could start to feel out of place, the others welcomed him and bid him sit down. He was quickly handled his own tools and Merak instructed him on how to make burning salves which, as Merak said, shouldn’t be above his abilities from his show of knowledge yesterday.

The burning salve was easy to make but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t hard work. It was one of the more frequently used salves in the mountain as many dwarves were occupied as smithies; burns couldn’t be avoided.  

Even though his task was pure routine, with no room for experimenting, he was happy to be engaged with work. It also helped that his colleagues where fun and bantering old dwarves.

“I still can’t believe that you completed the test yesterday. Never before has anyone succeeded as quickly as you did. I’m almost inclined to believe that it was foul play, made up by you old trolls to steal my money,” the dwarf known as Bharkan joked.

“I surely hope that isn’t the case,” Harry teased back. “If so, then I feel awfully cheated as I haven’t received a single coin for my hard work.”

“That’s tough, lad,” Tritukhan said with a big smile, his hands occupied with a stone grinder. “But since we didn’t pay you at the time all of your earnings were shared between the winners.”

He couldn’t contain his mirth as he faked a hurt expression. “Why you stupid, abusive, old, big-eared, and big-nosed crones.”

“You are truly something else, Harry,” Bharkan spoke as the laughter died down around the table.

“You don’t say,” Merak added with lifted brows as he trailed a single finger over the worn pages of a thick tome.

Suddenly feeling shy, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if his cheeks where dusted with red. “Thank you. You have all made me feel very welcome here; I couldn’t ask for a better place to work.”

As one, all of the dwarves present lifted their heads from their work and looked at each other with widesmiles.

“I’m sure that you would be more than welcomed to work anywhere in this mountain, Harry,” Bharkan said, nodding sagely while keeping eye contact with his older, still smiling, colleagues. 

“Oh, yes,” Hergor added. “Now that you mention it, I’m sure that I’ve heard about a newcomer who has a mountain of socks before his door.”

Harry’s hand stilled immediately. “What does this have to do with the socks?”

“You don’t know? Surely you jest?” Tritukhan asked.

“You must know how… Well, how appealing you are?” Hergor continued.

His colleagues stared expectantly back at him but Harry could only shake his head in confusion. “I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say. I figured that the socks were a welcoming gift for moving in or some sort of mild prank.”

“You cannot seriously mean…” Tritukhan began before he burst into laughter. “Oh, I pity all of those poor lads.”

“What does it mean? Please tell if I have done something wrong.” Harry looked around at each face but none of them could face him without breaking into laughter.

“I’ll give up,” he said and threw his hands into the air for dramatic effect. “You are all evil, old crones who thrive in my misery. I’ll take my earlier statement back.”

It was Tritukhan who gathered himself first enough to speak. “You have done nothing wrong, Harry, nothing but broken a couple of hearts.”

“A couple? Not likely,” Hergor exclaimed. “I have heard that our dear Harry here has a mountain of them to an extent that almost blocks the hallway.”

“Broken hearts? Will you just get to the point already? I fear that I won’t ever know the truth with the pace you are going.”

“The young dwarrows of this mountain are seeking your affection, sweet Harry.” When Harry only raised his brows in surprise Tritukhan elaborated further. “They are all your admires. They have all left a token at your door in hope that you’ll notice them and seek them out in return.”

“Their socks, they are tokens? Really? And how am I supposed to know who they are in order to seek them out, when all they leave me are their dirty socks?”

“Their names will be stitched inside the lining. You could say that the socks are a preliminary stage before the courting period. You receive socks because you’re admired and desired and it is still unknown whether or not you want or are ready to enter a relationship.”

As Tritukhan spoke, he noticed that he had Harry’s full attention and continued his explanation for it was apparent to see that Harry didn’t know of the custom.

“When a dwarf is ready for courting the family will announce the decision in court and around their social circles. But sometimes when the individual is highly desired, the dwarf in question will get socks from hopeful admires because they are anxiously waiting for news on the dwarfs courting status. If the dwarf then is ready to enter into a relationship, he or she will normally take the socks into their home and sample the ‘market’ but if he or she isn’t, they will simply leave the socks be.”

“And since I have let the socks lay outside my door, they all think that I’m unprepared for courting.” Harry could only nod his head as understanding seemed to dawn on him.

“That or that you’re already engaged to be with someone else, and that wouldn’t be unthinkable. Seen from an outsider’s perspective, you’re quite the sight, Harry.”

Harry could only smile at Tritukhan’s flattering words but his mind was completely occupied by the occurrence yesterday. Ralec had proposed to him even though he had left the socks outside his door untouched. Maybe he had thought that Harry had declined other offers because he was waiting for Ralec to propose. He dearly hoped that he hadn’t encouraged Ralec in his ignorance. Setting the thought aside for another time, he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass now that this custom had been on his mind for so long.

“What does one do with all the socks outside their home and when they take them inside their home?”

“Well… hmm. That is private,” Tritukhan managed to formulate with some difficulties, cheeks suddenly lightly dusted red.

“For Mahal’s sake, Tritukhan, can’t you see that the lad needs to know this, our customs? He may know what there is to know about herbs and whatnots without our help but at least we can teach him this,” Merak said loudly, not only looking at Tritukhan but at everyone around the table until they all nodded back in agreement.

Now that Merak had gained approval for all of the surrendering individuals, he didn’t hold back on the apparently private matter. “You see, Harry, nothing necessary has to happen when you take some of the socks with you into your home, the act alone simply clarifies that you are ready to enter a relationship. Then you can take the socks outside again but… but sometimes, when young dwarves are attracted to one another the suitor leaves a sock and the recipient keeps the token… close. As a matter of fact all of the socks are normally worn for weeks before they are delivered so that the scent or the giver is left behind on the cloth.”

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to understand the meaning of what Merak was saying and yet he asked. “Are you saying that people sniff at the socks they are given?”

“Well, it isn’t unusual if the dwarf likes the giver and the attraction is returned. You do know how much we value our feet?”  

“Yes, yes I do,” Harry was quick to reassure.

“Then you must realise how vital this is?”

“Yes, I do now. But there are so many outside my home, at least a thousand, I don’t know that many and they can’t know me. Why would they leave a token like that?”  

“It is the only polite way of expressing that they want to know you on an intimidate level without shaming themselves or you. It is a promise for the future that they want to share everything with you. It’s a great honour to receive such a token. “

He had had plenty of admires as Harry Potter but this was something entirely else. Many people had wanted and desired him, pursued him because of his name and everything that it entitled. But in this world he had neither fame, titles, nor money and the dwarves who sought him out wanted much more of him then a quick lay. He was flattered, immensely, but he was also terribly confused as to why he had gathered so much attention.

“What should I do with the socks outside my door then? Leave them or remove them?”

“You can let them lay, they will be removed gradually when the dwarves realise that their pursuit is in vain but we are a stubborn people and it could take months before that happens. But as they are yours, you could have them all removed or burned if that is what you wanted,” Merak answered thoughtfully as his hand ran through his greying beard. 

 “Good morning.” Gendry wandered through the opening towards them as he got many greetings in return.

“I see that you are already occupied with work, Harry, that’s good. But our responsibility today will lie with our patients so we will make the rounds.”

“How exciting,” he was quick to say. “Let me just clean this up and I will be with you.”

Harry wasn’t made to do any actual work on the rounds; he only greeted the patients together with Gendry and observed how the different patients were treated. It was only after the rounds were made and all the 32 patients had been seen to that Harry got a chance to work.

They were sitting by the entrance, in case of new emergencies, in the progress of doing paperwork, when a thick-armed and big-chested chestnut haired dwarf walked through the door. He wore a t-shirt, pants, and a brown leather apron with dark spots that likewise decorated the dwarf’s underarms.

Harry spotted him first and immediately ran to his side when he spotted the dwarf’s bleeding right hand.

“Let me take a look at that,” he said, as he stopped before the wounded dwarf and took a light, gentle hold of the thick wrist.     

“Will you take care of that Harry? I’ll have to deal with this,” Gendry called out.

And when Harry looked up he could see that another wounded dwarf had come in, with what Harry assumed was his family. The group supported the unconscious dwarf who was bleeding porously from the chest as Gendry rushed towards them.

“I will,” he called back before he turned his attention back to the person’s whose wrist he still held in his hold. Dark eyes stared intently at him when he looked up to face his very first patient.

“Please follow me,” he said with a small smile and the wounded dwarf followed obediently; Harry could easily feel the heavy eyes following his form.

“Please take a seat over there,” Harry said as he indicated to the clean bed inside the unoccupied room. The dwarf silently took a seat while Harry found bandages and disinfectants and readied a bowl with hot water on the small moveable table. He found a stool and sat down before the wounded dwarf.

“I’m Harry. What’s your name?” he asked curiously.

“Christan,” was the short reply.

 “Well, Christan,” Harry said as he held the hand up for inspection. “I’m correct in assuming that your fingers have been crushed?”

“Yes, they are gone now.”

“There’s nothing to do about that then.” Taking the water soaked cloth, Harry cleaned the wound and applied disinfectant on the three stubs. The pinky, ring, and the middle finger had been crushed to powder almost to the knuckles.

No tears fell from Christan’s face nor did his face bear a hit of remorse for his lost limbs, he seemed far more interested in Harry.

Harry silently bore Christan’s heavy stare as he bound his hand.

“You’ll have to change the bandages two to three times a day as long as the wound is still open but as soon as the scab appears you can take them off. Also, you’ll have to apply this to the wound whenever you change the bandages,” he said, as he held out a pot of salve to Christan.

“Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Harry answered with a smile as he moved to stand. “If the wound takes a turn for the worse don’t hesitate to come back.

 

::::::::::

 

 All seemed to go well the next couple of days, Harry was even entrusted with more responsibility and more patients. He was happy with his job, and his friends were happy to see him content and settled.

 But something was wrong and he only noticed when he continuously saw his co-workers worried expressions more and more each day. It also didn’t escape Harry’s notice that there had been an increase in the numbers of wounded patients in the following days. It was nothing serious; minor cuts and burns but soon all of their workers had to deal with the wounded until The Green Room stood empty.

When Harry turned his troubles over with his friends, Bofur only laughed and said with a wide smirk. “Didn’t I tell you this would happen when we first met?”

At first Harry couldn’t recall the incident of which Bofur spoke and days passed before he remembered.

He was in the middle of dealing with yet another patient, who had a deep cut in his thigh, when a thought suddenly struck him. The patient stared intently at him while he worked, like all his previously patients had done, and Harry realised with a startling clarity that they all were here for him.

The minor injuries had all been self-inflicted so that they had an excuse to come here and bother him and his co-workers. All of their other duties had been put on hold for the wounded’s sake. Because of their selfish desires to see him they were hindering his co-workers and himself in tending to serious work. What nerve.    

However much Harry wanted to confront the dwarf before him, he didn’t think that it would help the situation to take his anger out on a single dwarf. Instead, he dutifully finished his work in silence under the dwarf’s stare before he excused himself.  

Walking down the corridor with now occupied rooms, he searched for Gendry. He could only see one possible solution to end this problem. He was a burden to his co-workers and though he knew that they thought him one of them, they also recognize the source of this problem. He would resign now, before he would be forced to do so.

He found Gendry in one of the many rooms, treating another dwarf. Harry had peeked his head inside, completely ignoring the wounded dwarf whose attention he had captured.

Harry cleared his throat to gather Gendry attention. “Can I have a moment of your time after this?”

Gendry looked surprised by his request but didn’t refuse him. “Of course; I’ll be done in a moment.”

Gendry was sad to see Harry go, despite their rough start, but he could do nothing to prevent Harry’s reassignment. Through his goodbyes, many of the others tried to convince him to stay and some even suggested that he should just take some time off to let the storm blow over.

Harry wasn’t persuaded for surely it would all start over again when he came back and he didn’t want to put more strain on his new friends. Harry left his pastel green robes reluctantly and headed home with a heavy heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, am I correct in guessing that many of you are thinking; where is Oin? No worries, he will come around next time so will Thorin!! Annnd… The meaning of the socks has been explained! Many of you’ve already guess something along those lines and I hope that you weren’t disappointed!!! What did you think they meant, what would you have like them to mean and symbolise?? Please tell me, it will be fun to read your theories :D  
> Also, PLEASE check out my other story!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets someone unexpected in Dale.

The trip home was unusually difficult to go through. He wasn’t weighed down by lead but somehow his legs struggled to move forward. He was reluctant to head home for he knew that he wouldn’t be back tomorrow.

At every turn and twist, the eyes of the mountain’s other occupants followed him and for once he couldn’t ignore them. Harry was suddenly nervous about every tiny movement he made and he couldn’t help but be hesitant in his replies to every greeting and smile he received on his way.

Were his smiles too wide and his greetings overenthusiastic? He must have done something specific to attract so many admires, right?

“Harry?” His gloomy train of thought stopped abruptly at the call of his name. Turning around, Nori’s form came out of another side corridor.

“What are you doing here, Harry? Shouldn’t you be working right now?”

“Nori.” Harry hadn’t seen Nori in days and his mood quickly brightened at the prospect of talking with his mysterious friend. “What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you and I know that you haven’t been following me around these last few days.”

“I’ve been busy, Harry,” Nori replied with a smile. “However much I want to follow you around all day, I’ve other duties to attend to and a healer doesn’t usually stray from the Hall of Healing and therefore doesn’t need to be observed as much. It is actually quite the coincidence that I ran into you here. But Harry, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve resigned, I’m afraid. I’m free and unpredictable once again, my friend.”

“I… Didn’t you like it there?” Nori asked uncertainly with a confused expression.

“I did. The place is wonderful so is… were my colleagues. I didn’t want to quit but I didn’t see another way around it. I don’t know if you know, you probably do,” he added with a humorous eye roll, “but a lot of miners and smithies have been more on more unfortunate while working. The last couple of days we had had an increase in patients with minor wounds and I have reason to believe that the wounds are self-inflicted.”

“I knew that a lot of workers had been prone to accidents lately but I never thought that it had anything to do with you. But of course it is because of you.” The next string of words were impossible to make out from Nori’s angry grumbles which Harry was quick to interrupt out of fear that the dwarf would hunt down recovered patients.

“Well, I thought so too and it didn’t seem right to continue my work there when I was trouble for my colleagues.”

“I’m sure that they didn’t mind the extra work,” Nori said kindly to try to assuage Harry’s guilt.

“Thank you, my friend.” Harry gave Nori an appreciative smile before his green eyes turned skyward in a thoughtful expression.

“I’m contemplating whether or not, I should throw a mountain of socks out through the highest window in Erebor or if I should build a bonfire outside my front door. I could use some help with that, if you aren’t otherwise occupied at the moment?”

Nori threw his styled head back in laughter. “Are you feeling rebellious at the moment, Harry?”

“I’ve grown tired of the stench and I have to vent my anger somehow before I bring the whole mountain down in my anger. And then, Merlin have mercy, I would have to confront an angry king again.”

 “I’m afraid that I’m rather busy right now, perhaps another time, eh?” Nori asked; his braided eyebrows were lifted in question as he slowly backed away.

“Yes, of course. I doubt that I’ll be able to remove them all today anyway,” Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I would much rather spend the remainder of my day in Dale. I’ll see you around, right, Nori?”

“I will make sure to find you again later,” Nori replied as his brown, spiked hair disappeared around the corner.

With his plans for the day changed, he headed for the main gates. Although the many underground corridors, halls, and rooms never felt cramped, he didn’t realise how much he missed the open air and sun before he once again stepped through those big, impressive gates.

Turning his back on the giant, imposing stone guards at Erebor’s entrance, he wandered the short trip to Dale on the road occupied by dwarves and humans alike.

Instead of enjoying the day by himself in the wonderful city, Harry visited Thorsten and invited him out on a trip. In the end, it was Thorsten who lead the way. He showed Harry which stands sold the best cheeses and vegetables in the market, the spots that had the best views over the city and the palace. They even visited one of Thorsten’s old friends, a wine merchant, who was more than happy to give them a sample of his goods.

Even in Dale Harry attracted attention but not to the degree he was used to getting in the mountain. There weren’t as many dwarves around and even if the humans found him interesting, he wasn’t noteworthy enough to acquire more than a quick look.  

Their trip ended in front of Thorsten’s home as the sun started to grace the horizon. With sun heated cheeks, Harry bid Thorsten goodbye and walked on the cobblestone road back in the direction of the mountain peak.

The colourful streets were less crowded and the noise had quieted down to the point where you could hear the birds sing the last tunes of the day. As he reached the southern gate, which connected Dale to Erebor, he couldn’t help but notice a cloaked pair of dwarves; each had hold around the bridle of a groomed pony.

By their raised voices the two of them were clearly arguing but Harry couldn’t make out the words that were said between them until he got a little closer. They couldn’t agree on whether or not they should stay or ride back to Erebor. Why they had such trouble deciding, Harry could not tell.

Even though their cloaks covered them completely, Harry quickly identified them both as males by their deep voices. By dwarven standards they both had intimidating figures and as they stood with their ponies in the gateway, they occupied the whole space. While the tension between them was high, Harry wouldn’t let them hinder him in taking the easiest route home.

The bigger of the pair had clearly become fed up by his companion’s reasoning because he raised his voice another notch. “You’re being a ridiculous twit now.”

Harry had seriously hoped that he could have walked by without an incident but now he couldn’t stay objective. He didn’t want this match of words to result in a fistfight, and with determination, which would have made Godric proud, he intervened.  

“Excuse me.” The pair of them stopped abruptly and Harry quickly had the attention of the bigger dwarf who had seen him approach over his comrade’s shoulder. He had a gruff aura and a sour, hostile face. That was, until he took a double take up and down Harry’s form and his whole face broke into a wide smirk. Harry muttered a light curse when he faltered in his steps, unsure about how he should interpret the dwarf’s weird reaction to his interference. Even with the ‘smile’ the dwarf still screamed of danger and the dwarf’s dark eyes, mohawk, and facial scars didn’t help to soften his profile.

Yet, he wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover. “I was wondering if I could be of any assistance; it sounds like you’re in quite the bind?”

If possible, the dwarf’s smile broke into an even wider grin before he looked at his companion. “It seems that there wasn’t any trouble at all; it was all just a misunderstanding. I’m Dwalin, son of Fundin at your service.”

“Dwalin, you’re Dwalin? I have heard many great things about you from a friend of mine. It’s nice to finally have a face to associate with the name. I’m Harry, son of James; it’s an honour.”

“Really? So you’ve heard about me,” Dwalin stated with a note of satisfaction. “I’m not surprised now that I think about it,” he added as he pushed his companion in the side with a triumphant look.

“Well, if you’re sure that there is nothing wrong then I better continue back before...”

“There is no need to hurry,” Dwalin interrupted hastily before Harry could turn down the path to Erebor. “You haven’t even been introduced to my friend.”

The anonymous dwarf had yet to show his face and had turned his back on them during Harry and Dwalin’s conversation. Even though Dwalin had turned the attention towards him, the mysterious figure didn’t seem to want to introduce himself.

Dwalin cleared his throat at the awkward situation all the while glaring a hole in his companion’s cloak. “He’s a bit shy,” Dwalin chuckled humourlessly. “But that is why I’m here,” he continued as he grabbed his companion’s shoulders and hurled him around.

“Say hello to my good friend, Thormund.” The hood was pulled down and Dwalin continued his rant, unaware that Harry didn’t hear a single word he said.

Harry stood silent for a good half a minute and stared into familiar blue eyes. Everything had stopped but Dwalin’s voice, which was heard like a distant sound in the back of his mind.

“Thorin?”

Harry knew that it was Thorin before him, yet he didn’t. The eyes gave him away and the longer Harry looked into them the more he became certain that it was Thorin behind that broken nose, brown wig and shortened, trimmed beard. 

The two cloaked dwarves stilled at his admission before Thorin turned his face sideways to glare angrily at Dwalin. “I told you that this was a stupid plan.”  

Dwalin glared “You were the one who wanted to dress up because you didn’t have the balls to go without a disguise, Thorin. I, on the other hand, told you that it was a foolhardy plan but would you listen? No, you wouldn’t.”

Harry couldn’t contain his laughter; it was quite the sight to see the two giant dwarves act so silly. “Why have you gone to such lengths to hide your identity anyway? And what have you done to your beard and your nose?”

When Thorin just continued to stare embarrassedly at him instead of answering, Dwalin decided to intertwine, but not before delivering a dramatic eye roll.

“This idiot here is scared to show his face.”

“Why would you be? Your nose looks bad, yes, but that shouldn’t be reason enough to do this,” Harry said, as he indicated towards Thorin’s cloaked form, wig, and trimmed beard.

“Did you perhaps fall off your pony?” Harry couldn’t look at Thorin directly as he asked him this, not because he was afraid but because he was unsure how to handle the situation correctly. Unsure and confused about what Thorin could want with him, Harry decided to act professional and focus on the topic that he was, luckily enough, in control over.

“The break looks to have been recent,” Harry said as he, without hesitation lightly touched the damaged nose. But as Harry was fully occupied with studying Thorin’s nose, he failed to see Dwalin shake his head in bewilderment and Thorin’s angry, blameful eyes fall on Dwalin.

“It hasn’t even started swelling and, luckily for you, it’s not too damaged to be reset. I can do it now, if you want?” 

Hesitating for a moment, Harry added, “I understand if you don’t want me to do it that… and that is alright. If that is the case, I’ll just inform you that you won’t reach the mountain quick enough to avoid the swelling to have started and that you’ll have to wait three days to have your nose reset and for the healing process to start.”

Harry could not help but fret nervously under the intense stare he knew he was being subjected to. Thorin remained awkwardly silent and Harry wanted nothing more than to leave the pair of dwarves before him. He would have, if it weren’t for the fact that he was afraid to create further strife between Thorin and himself.

Unable to meet Thorin blue eyes, Harry looked to Dwalin, who looked, to Harry’s surprise, in irritation at Thorin. With an overdramatic sigh, Dwalin swung his giant fist into Thorin’s side. “Would you care to say something, you giant lump?”

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed angrily as he reached out towards Dwalin’s offensive hand. “There’s no need to turn to violence.”

“I thought that you wanted me to get him to talk,” Dwalin answered, confused like he couldn’t understand Harry’s action.

“You’re right, but I didn’t ask of you to hit him. Do I look like someone who enjoys resetting limbs?” Harry let Dwalin’s giant hand fall from between his own smaller ones, when it became clear that he wouldn’t continue his assault on the stumped king. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, but what he wanted to ask next never left his lips as he turned to look directly into stunning blue eyes.

His heart skipped a beat. Fear, he convinced himself as he was once againcaught by the intense eyes.  

Thorin didn’t seem the least affected by Dwalin’s attack. True to Dwalin’s intensions, the hit had only worked to relieved Thorin from his trance.

Harry had to break away from Thorin’s stare and he felt himself stiffen further as Thorin’s deep voice addressed him. “I’m honoured by your concern, of which I am completely unworthy, but you need not worry about me. You shouldn’t have to dirty your hands with me; I’ll have another healer fix the problem when I reach the mountain again.”

“Don’t be stupid… I,” Harry couldn’t believe he had just called the king stupid, again. He was mentally hitting himself over the head with a frying pan as he struggled to overcome his slip. “I mean that it’s no trouble; I’ll do it now.”

Quick as lighting, Harry’s small hands flew to Thorin’s face and tugged the crocked nose back to its rightful place. 

“Thank you,” Thorin said his voice unaffected by the painful procedure but his eyes burned as they stared into Harry’s.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied, as withdrew his hands. “I couldn’t possibly allow the king to continue wearing that horrible wig if I could somehow prevent it. Now, I must be heading back; I don’t have any light with me and the trail will soon turn dark.” With an awkward half-smile Harry began to walk towards the gate, away from the duo. 

Once again, Harry failed to see the two dwarves exchange confused looks; he was too busy trying to make his escape. He had only just passed the open gates and released his shoulders from their tense position, when Thorin called out to him.

“Harry, could I offer you a ride home? It’s the least I can do to thank you for your generosity.”

Harry looked back upon Thorin who was now seated upon his black pony. Attached in his clenched hands, he had the bridle to another pony, Dwalin’s pony.      

“What about Dwalin?” Harry couldn’t help but ask while looking past the two ponies to Dwalin, who had his big arms crossed and a dark shadow covering his face. “Is he not coming with you?”

“Dwalin will be staying in Dale until tomorrow to take care of business with the armoury in the city. It’ll please us both to ease your journey back to the mountain.” Thorin swung his leg over the pony’s back and fell gracefully down its back to the ground.

“Please accept our offer,” Thorin said, as he held the bridle out for Harry to take. 

When Harry hesitated Thorin inquired, “Have you not ridden before? If so you need not worry; I’ll show you and we can ride back at a pace you a comfortable with.”

“Oh no, I’ve ridden before,” Harry was quick to say. He grabbed the reigns from Thorin’s rough hand, ignoring the pleasant warm flesh that was unavoidable not to touch in the process.

“Shall we get going?” Harry asked before he swung himself over the pony’s back, from where he could look down on Thorin’s flabbergasted expression. 

“You continue to surprise me.” Even though Thorin hadn’t meant it as an insult, Harry chose not to comment and he could see that Thorin quickly regretted his choice of words from the grimace that overtook his handsome face. Thorin was fast to mount the pony once more and, without further delay, he steered them in the direction of the mountain.

The ponies walked at a slow steady pace, undisturbed by the awkward atmosphere between the two silent riders. Harry was grateful for Thorin’s considerate offer but he soon regretted that he hadn’t made up an excuse to avoid riding back with him. Again what had he been thinking? That Thorin and him would ride side by side, talking like friends and enjoying their time together?  

He knew that it was an unlikely scenario to ever happen, even more so unless he addressed the problem that had been created when they first meet.

“I’m sorry that we meet under the circumstances that we did. I wish that I had never walked through that door but I did, because I was too worried about what others would think of me in my wet attire. I’ve never thought of myself as vain but I guess that I am.”

“Please don’t speak of yourself like that. I’ve meet many dwarves who are vain but you are not one of them.”

Harry was surprised by Thorin’s pleasantly calm voice and couldn’t help but finally look at him. For once Thorin wasn’t looking at Harry; he had his eyes on Erebor ahead. The falling sun’s last rays shed a golden, warm light upon Thorin’s smooth skin. The black, curly hair, short, trimmed beard, thick eyebrows, and once again straight nose, made Thorin one of the most handsome people Harry had ever laid eyes on.

Shaking his head to get his mind out of the gutter, Harry focussed instead on Thorin’s words.

“…if we hadn’t met. I too wish that it had never happened for we both have suffered from the result.”

Harry could easily understand why Thorin wished he had never met him. After what he had learned from his friends, he knew that he had only created more problems for Thorin to handle. Still it hurt to hear Thorin say the words.

“You are right. But what I don’t understand is how you could have misinterpreted my intentions in the first place and thought that I was a whore. I know that I wasn’t appropriately clothed at the time but I still didn’t offer or say anything suggestive to you.”

Thorin didn’t immediately replay; rather he shifted uncomfortably in the seat of his saddle, unsure of what to say. Their eyes met, each studying the other intently.

“While you didn’t say anything suggestive, you still looked and acted as a whore would. How could I’ve thought that you were anything different?”

Harry couldn’t make sense of the words that left Thorin’s mouth; he was shocked. But the shock quickly turned to anger.

“Excuse me?” His voice had automatically dropped, just as the corners of his mouth had dropped downwards.

But Thorin didn’t bother to repeat his words. Instead he looked at Harry like he was stupid.

“I see that I have to clarify which part of your statement offends me since you obviously don’t understand. I don’t appreciate being told that I look like a person who takes cocks and swallows cum for money.”

“That wasn’t what I meant; you misunderstand me,” Thorin was quick to say.

“Oh yes, so it’s my fault again is it? I misunderstood you, did I? Don’t despair, Thorin, for I did indeed understand it when you said that that I looked and acted like a whore.”

“But you did, how could I…” Thorin began again, his voice raised to match Harry’s own. It was lucky that the road was deserted from other travellers, for none of them wanted to spread more gossip about their strained relationship.

“You could have listened to me, you giant fool,” Harry interrupted, “instead of just jumping to conclusions. And I very much deny the fact that I, in any way, can be compared to a whore. I don’t see why we should prolong this journey any longer. Thanks for the ride, King Thorin.”

With that, Harry kicked the heels of his feet into the pony’s sides and spurred the animal into a run, away from Thorin. He couldn’t help but throw a look over his shoulder to see if Thorin had taken pursuit but, to his surprise, Thorin’s pony had been pulled to a stop in the middle of the road. 

Satisfied that Thorin wouldn’t hunt him down in unfounded anger, Harry turned his eyes back upon the road ahead. Harry would have expected Thorin to be angry, to act unreasonably or shout at him but he had not expected what Thorin did next.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I only meant to say that you looked beautiful,” Thorin’s voice boomed and ate the distance between them with ease, as if he was riding right beside him.

Even though Harry was confused about Thorin’s strange apology, he didn’t stop his pony to find out what Thorin meant. He did however look back upon the still figure – What was that supposed to mean?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I need inspiration and motivation, I'll read your awesome comments and it gets me high like a wow!! You guys are so awesome. I feel undeserving of the support I receive, especially, when I choose to leave you for so long. I’m so sorry!! What I want to say is that, even though I'm busy and stressed as hell, you guys still motivates me to write - Thank you all!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the deaf dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that your last comments were wholly appreciated!! Thank you all so much for taking the time to write to me, I couldn’t contain my smiles or my laughter as I read through your comments. I agreed with all of you; Thorin should learn to think before he speaks.  
> I also want to apologize to all of you who follow my story. I know that the wait has been long, but I hope that this chapter will make up for it. 
> 
> Thank you all for the support!!

Harry Potter hated dwarves; he hated them with a passion. But that was not entirely true. Harry had met and befriended many in the mountain that he had come to care for; what he truly loathed was the dwarves’ traditions and customs. He couldn’t understand how the dwarves thought and every time that he had made a breakthrough something new would come up and make his life a living hell.

Thorin had insulted him and then called him beautiful. Was he supposed to understand that being called a whore was somehow a complement? He did not think so.

Harry had grown tired of dwarves yet again. He had briefly considered moving again, but he didn’t know where he should go or what to expect in this strange world.

Which was why he locked himself in and refused to see anyone who acted and thought like a dwarf. He had closed the door for Ralec, Nori, and Bofur yesterday, and told them to leave him alone for the time being. Later he had to resort to threats, when Bofur came back with his family and then threated to break through his door. Harry knew that they were concerned about his wellbeing but he just needed some time to cool down.

He wasn’t just confused about the dwarves’ way of life, he was also internally conflicted. He had difficulties controlling his emotions and half the time he couldn’t even name or understand what he felt. He blamed it on the dwarf part in him.

While he had locked himself inside his lovely home, he had not been entirely without company the last two days. After Harry had assured Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur that he was in fact fine, another knock had sounded from his front door. Harry had fully expected to slam the door shut, and turn his guest away, but he couldn’t make himself do it as he had been faced with Garion and his father, Trion.

Harry’s worries had easily been forgotten as Garion told the tale of how he had acquired his wound and then showed Harry the healing stitched on his right leg. With Garion and Trion he needed not worry about acting out of characteristics of a dwarf, it was like he could do no wrong in their company.

Lost in memories from his place on the couch, Harry’s train of thought was interrupted when a knock sounded on the front door. It was his first visitor for the day, and he had rather hoped that he would not be disturbed; his friends should have gotten the message across yesterday.

He rose from the couch to open the door. The dwarf on the other side was someone that he didn’t recognise. He had a mane of grey hair that didn’t wave as the dwarf went down in a curt bow. Harry, who had grown quite a hobby in beard watching, couldn’t help but break into a smile at the sight of the braided beard that looked like an incomplete pretzel.

“Oin, son of Groin, at your service,” Oin presented himself and Harry quickly bowed down with a similar introduction of his own. The formal introduction was a short procedure and Oin didn’t bother to say anything else, much to Harry’s confusion. For an awkward and rather long 5 seconds, Harry stood rigid with a tense smile on his face.

“What?” Oin uttered after the long pause, and his furrowed eyebrows were drawn closer to his eyes in an expression that Harry recognised as confusion.

“I am sorry but what?” Harry asked of his own confusion.

“What’s your name, laddie?” And Harry, who had already presented himself once, could feel the first signs of irritation hit him. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was being made fun of, but the look in Oin’s eyes made Harry hope that his question was, in fact, genuine. He took a deep breath to calm his rising nerves but the irritation could still be detected in the slight raise of his voice.

“I’m Harry, son of James, at your service,” he repeated for the second time, and this time with success.

“Why didn’t you just say so in the beginning?”Oin grumbled to himself but it didn’t prevent Harry from hearing it and choosing to ignore the comment.

“Well, what can I do for you?” Harry opted to say instead and this time Oin answered without difficulties. 

"I’ve come to put you to work, son of James, if you would follow after me, we can get started." And just as suddenly as Oin had stated the true purpose for his visit, he turned around to walk down the corridor.

Harry, who hadn’t yet moved away from the doorframe, could only stare as Oin continued on without looking back. Oin was a complete stranger who had appeared out of nowhere and perhaps if Harry had known more about the dwarves’ traditions, he would have known whether it would be smart to follow or to stay behind and barricade his door.

But the way Harry saw it, he only had one option. Smacking the door shut behind him, he sprinted to catch up, surprised to discover that Oin talked undisturbed as if Harry had been walking beside him all along.  

“And I’ve heard from Merak that you have lots of experience on the medical field already, which is rare considering how young you are. I, myself, was trained by Healer Ulric in my younger days. Why I didn’t consider taking on an apprentice before know, I cannot tell you, but it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea now that I have thought about it.”

"You’ve talked with Merak about healing? Is that where we are going, to the Hall of Healing? I’m sorry to say this but I’ve already worked as a healer and that didn’t work out." Harry wanted to get some answers, but he didn't receive any response back in return. It was difficult to say if the dwarf ignored him on purpose, but Harry was starting to think that that wasn’t the case, so he tried again.

“Are we going to the Hall of Healing?” They had just taken a turn down another corridor that Harry had used while he still worked as a healer. 

“No, we are not. You will not get to work in the Hall of Healing, from what I’ve heard that turned into a minor disaster. You will train directly under me as… a private healer.”

“A private healer?” Harry asked, undeniably confused; he hadn’t heard about those kinds of healers before. “Then who will we be treating?”

It came as no surprise when Oin failed to answer once more; in fact, he had completely failed to react to Harry’s question at all. His eyes didn’t waver from the path ahead, which lead Harry to believe that the older dwarf were slightly deaf. He briefly considered asking his question again, but figured that he would find out in time.  

“I can see why all of the trouble started,” Oin suddenly spoke up from beside him.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, taking care to speak loud and clear. He knew that he immediately had gained the attention of everyone in the corridor when he had spoken, if he hadn’t already had it, but that was just something he had to get used to; though he probably never would.

“From the way they all look at you. I know that there hasn’t been a bearer born in a century before now but they all ought to have some courtesy. If I were you, I would hate to go out, probably barricade the door as well.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry murmured with a grimace. “Wait, did you say bearer?” The term wasn’t completely unfamiliar to Harry, it was used when male wizards could be impregnated and carry to term.

Oin came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the corridor, forcing Harry to stop along with him.

“What is it now?” Harry was getting tired of this really quickly, again. “Look, could you please be straight forward with me? I’m done with the secrecy and misunderstandings.”

Looking around the narrow space, Harry noticed that all the other dwarves had stopped what they were doing to listen in on Oin’s and his conversation. He wanted to shout at them and call them nosey fools but he didn’t get to shoot more than a few dirty looks.

“You don’t know?” Oin asked, his grey eyebrows almost completely down into his questioning eyes.     

“No, I don’t, and you know what? That is the whole problem. Will you tell me or will I’ve have to turn back and barricade the door?”

“I like you, laddie,” Oin said with a laugh. “If you still want, we can walk the rest of the way to my workstation and talk there?”

Harry really didn’t want to go back to his house, not when he finally had ventured out. He had accomplished nothing locked inside his home and he realised, however much he dreaded it, that he needed to be together with the crazy dwarves to understand them.

“Alright.”

 

::::::::::

::::::::::

 

“Tell me, what is it that I don’t know?”

They were sitting inside what would have to be Oin’s office. The walls were filled with newer tomes and categorised paper stacks, the rug was golden brown, the desk stood on dark wooden legs and had a blank surface made of stone.

Oin leaned back into the blue fabric of the plush armchair with wooden carvings and drew a long wooden pipe out from an inner pocket. He opened a small metal chest that rested upon the desk and started stuffing his pipe with a pleasant smelling pipe-weed.    

“Haven’t you ever wondered why you haven’t grown a beard when everyone else has?” A small cloud of smoke rose from the pipe in Oin’s hand as he lit it.

“Of course I have.” And he had thought about it a great deal, not that he had found an answer. In the end, he had concluded that it had something to do with his strange arrival into this new world, and that his body wasn’t completely that of a dwarf. He hadn’t wanted to ask any of his friends, in fear of drawing further attention towards his difference.

“But you haven’t found out, you don’t know what separates you from the rest of us,” Oin said matter-of-factly while bigger clouds of smoke developed from the glowing end of the pipe.

“Let me guess,” Harry said with false cheer. “It has something to do with bearers?”

“How right you are, laddie.”

“Are you saying that I’m a bearer?” Harry hoped not. He knew deep down what Oin was going to say, but he hope that it didn’t mean what he thought it did; perhaps, bearers were different here than they were in his old world.

“You’re the first bearer we have seen in over a century, Harry, it’s a blessing. You know how dwarves struggle with fertility?” Oin asked, and Harry could only nod numbly. “The few women that we have struggle through pregnancy and they usually don’t get more than two children. But bearers, they are blessed by Mahal.”

Oin would probably have pressed forward with the praise if Harry hadn’t made an unintelligible sound from the back of his throat. He suddenly felt very dizzy and sick and he hadn’t see Oin move from his seat until his hand came to rest carefully upon his lower arm.

“You are very valued,” Oin began carefully, but Harry didn’t want to hear another word about it.

“I’m not something special,” he interrupted, and his words left no room for arguments. The silence that followed was raw; Harry hadn’t meant to shout, least at all at Oin, who hadn’t done him any wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled quietly, maybe too low for Oin to hear but he didn’t need to repeat himself.

“I understand,” Oin said, as he walked back around the desk to his own chair. “Maybe we should talk about something else for now, my job offer and what it’ll entail?” 

“I think that would be a good idea,” Harry quickly agreed but he didn’t know what else to say, what to ask, even though he had been curious about the job. His mind had gone completely blank, he hadn’t been a bearer in his last life and he couldn’t understand why he had suddenly gained the ability.

“I’ll train you to be my successor. We’ll work in our own workspace, separated from the healing hall and we will follow our own schedule. When I judge you to be ready, you will work alongside me to discover new healing methods. Does that meet your satisfaction?” 

 

::::::::::

::::::::::

 

The coming days had been nothing but challenging. Work would start early in the morning and end only when Harry, out of exhaustion, would fall asleep on his couch with a book in his lap. Oin demanded absolute perfection and, while Harry had been lucky that the herbs in this world resembled the ones in his old one, he still knew nothing of the bodies of dwarves or their illnesses. Oin had been shocked to learn that Harry had been considered a healer when he didn’t even know the basics and had been merciless in his teaching methods. Nothing was said more than once in the hours they spent together either outside the mountain, where Harry learned where the different herbs grew, or inside Oin’s working space. Together they practiced the technical work where Oin would observe and correct Harry’s techniques but on his own Harry was expected to catch up on theories and be able to access the knowledge the next day.

While the books Oin had given him to study were interesting and what he had sought after in terms of learning more about the species he had become a part of, he had difficulties reading a single chapter without falling asleep. Harry felt buried under the workload Oin demanded of him and most of the time he wanted to throttle the dwarf who hardly heard a thing when spoken to. Harry wouldn’t say that he hadn’t come to like the old dwarf, but Oin clearly took too much pleasure in ignoring Harry’s questions, making Harry either drop the matter entirely and seek out an answer on his own, or have him repeatedly shout the same question over and over again.    

But the hard work was rewarding. He had firsthand experience on how strong and persevering the dwarves were but now he also knew why. Why the dwarves could work with the strength of ten horses, some even capable of moulding gold with their bare hands. Why their skin was tough and their tolerance for pain was extremely high. And why the dwarves almost never got sick because their bodies ran with an alarmingly high body heat which protected them from harsh weather and most bacteria and viruses.

Oin had also handed Harry a thin leather-bound book about bearers with the accompanied words that while he didn’t have to read it right now, he would have to at one point to finish his healer training. But Oin had had no need to worry, for Harry hadn’t been able to avoid the book for long. He had read the book before an hour had gone by, perhaps a result of skipping some of the pages with descriptions of intercourse with bearers. A lot of the information wasn’t complete new since dwarf bearers had much in common with the magical ones. The only distinctive difference between the two was that the magical ones would give birth to wizards and witches with enormous magical powers while the dwarven bearers were cherished because they could give birth to dozens of children without taking damage or dying. The last dwarven bearer had given birth to a total of seventeen children and not even magical bearers could boast such large numbers.

Harry had been shocked and admittedly a bit terrified, but even though he was a bearer that didn’t mean that he wanted children any time soon, if any at all. It was suddenly much easier for him to understand why he had the attention of so many in the mountain. From what he had learned, dwarves were possessive and had a great interest in gold and shiny gems but children were the most valued and sought after of treasures.

He could easily have what so many desired, and yet all he wanted was to be like anyone else and fit in. He knew that he shouldn’t be ungrateful; he doubted that many woke up to find a second chance at life. But he also felt that he had been fooled; most of his friends and associates probably only liked him because of his status as a bearer. He could now say with complete certainty, even though it saddened him, that it was the reason Ralec had sought him out in the first place. But Harry also hoped that the reason for Ralec’s pursuit had changed since their first meeting.

He wanted to talk with the Ralec, to confront his fears, but the handsome dwarf was nowhere to be found and after asking around, he had gathered that the dwarf had left on another business related trip without notice.

Ralec wasn’t the only thing that had disappeared from Harry’s life without warning, though. The mountain of socks in front of his door had begun to taper in numbers. Every morning he would open his door and find that the collection of coloured socks was steadily growing more sparse in numbers, like someone had removed them in the middle of the night. He couldn’t say that he was displeased by the sudden development; after all, he had wanted to remove them himself, but he was still curious about the unexpected change.

And for once, he hadn’t hesitated to voice his question. Harry didn’t see Sanix very often, with Sanix rising in rank and responsibility, and Harry busy with his own new job, their schedules clashed horribly. But that didn’t stop Harry from visiting Sanix in the training hall with a book to read. While Sanix instructed and oversaw the work of his squad, Harry would read, but they still managed to sneak some conversation in between small breaks and update each other on their ongoing lives.

Sanix couldn’t say what the exact cause for the socks’ removal was, though apparently it could occur for several reasons. If the dwarf who placed the sock lost interest, he could remove it. But Sanix hadn’t believed that that was the reason and had pointed at the staring dwarves around the training hall to make a point. The socks could also be removed in case of competition between suitors or, in a special case, to please Harry because he had been displeased about them. In circumstance of an engagement or a marriage the bridegroom would sometime remove the socks out of a possessive gesture but some left them, completely unbothered by their spouse’s many admirers and to show off.

Harry didn’t really care why they had disappeared but he was sure that his red-haired neighbour appreciated the change as much as him.Today he hadn’t needed to manoeuvre around them to get out of his front door as he had ventured out in search of books necessary for his studies.

Erebor had one of this Earth’s biggest libraries and Harry was thrumming with excitement to see it. He had not thought that the dwarves would have much interest in books when stone, gems, and swords had priority. But then, according to Oin most of the books had nothing but stone, gems, and swords to report about. The history of the dwarves, their legendary battles and heroes, and tomes upon tomes of the wealth discovered within the seven dwarven kingdoms.

But Harry didn’t doubt that there were hidden and interesting reads to be found within the grand library. He certainly was going to try to find something on dwarven customs and traditions, even if he had to fall behind on his homework, he was determined to know more about the dwarves and what to expect of them.

Harry didn’t known why he hadn’t thought to visit the library before but there were still parts of Erebor he had yet to uncover. He had not been in this part of the mountain before; he didn’t even know the guards stationed around but he greeted them all the same. The corridors here had beautiful emerald floors and they were much less crowded, as they were very far away from the more heavily inhabited areas and the markets.

“Excuse me, but I believe that I have yet to have had the honour of making your acquaintance.” The dwarf who had spoken to Harry, had stepped right in front of him to stop him in his track. “I’m Jarkar, son of Zukar. Can I know your name, lovely one?”

Harry had to force himself to swallow the lump that had blocked his throat. The man before him had the same air as Lucius Malfoy had when Harry had first met him, that of a man who thought himself superior to anyone else. 

He had been polite in his speech but there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that there was more to this dwarf beneath the surface.

“I’m Harry, son of James,” he answered with a forced polite smile. Jarkar had his hand held out and Harry dreaded the kiss that would fall upon his hand as he placed his hand in Jarkar’s.

“Are you certain? You remind me of someone else I’ve known.” Jarkar still hadn’t let go of his hand and the physical contact had now gone beyond typical pleasantries to the point that Harry was happy to draw his hand to himself.

“I’m sure, who else should I be?” Harry couldn’t guess what the Jarkar had intended with his question. But he chose to treat it as a joke and smiled all the same.

“I’m sorry, I don’t normally pry in other people’s business but I must admit that I have heard tales about you.” Jarkar made a show of looking around the corridor to the few other passers-by. “You must know how quick gossip runs around this mountain. I have heard that you were found wandering around not far from Erebor and that you have no memories of your previous years. So can you certain that your name is Harry, the son of James?”

Harry false smile dropped in a moment of panic. He hadn’t thought that anyone would try to uncover his past, and he couldn’t see why it held any importance, but with this man in front of him he suddenly felt out of depth.

“I wouldn’t know for sure but for some reason I remember that name. Can I ask you why you’re so interested in my past?” Harry wanted to walk away but he also couldn’t leave in the middle of the conversation. Jarkar probably wouldn’t let him leave anyway and Harry didn’t want Jarkar to follow him around. It was bad enough that the dwarf’s black eyes made shivers run down his spine.   

“You remind me of someone I once knew, a mother, father, and their young son. They died around five years ago and their son disappeared without a trace.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry said genuinely. “I presume that they were close friends of yours?”

“Indeed, I became close friends of the family while their child was still a small dwarfling. Their son was a bearer like you.” Harry didn’t like where this conversation was going and the look Jarkar sent him didn’t help at all. “They lived in the kingdom Moria, a modest life, as his parents’ choose to keep their son’s status from the public. They wanted him to grow up like the other dwarflings his age for as long as the signs of his status weren’t too obvious. Later, his parents and I agreed that we would marry, he was my betrothed.” Jarkar’s hand suddenly stuck out and grabbed Harry’s. Harry tried to draw it back but Jarkar had him in a strong, firm hold.

“You look just like him.”

Harry desperately wanted to say something, anything to stop the other dwarf from continuing down this lane. But he couldn’t very well just proclaim that Jarkar was in the wrong without an explanation.

“I don’t know what to say.” And that was the truth, Harry really didn’t. He tried to draw his hand back once more but Jarkar held it firmly to his chest which, unfortunately brought Harry closer to him.

“I’m sure that you are my Roh, my lost bride.” Jarkar spoke as his other hand rose to Harry’s face. But before it could touch his cheek, Harry finally got loose and brought some much needed distance between them.

“I can’t be… I don’t know you.” In reality Jarkar could have spoken the truth, Harry consciousness could have been dumped within the body of this Roh, but Harry doubted that that was what happened. While the other dwarf’s face appeared sympathised because of Harry’s confusion, the black eyes shone with dark glee.

“But of course you have forgotten and it isn’t your fault. Don’t despair, Roh, you will have plenty of time to remember after our marriage. I will tell you of your family and old life until you remember again. 

“I can’t possibly marry you,” Harry tried to explain, uncertain if he talked to Jarkar or himself. His eyes were fixed on the green floor, somehow hoping that the solution to his problem would be written on the floor like a cheat sheet.

“You are promised to me and deal between us is sealed, there is nothing else to be done.” Jarkar didn’t even try to appear mournful anymore. Even hidden under the dark grey beard, the smile was clearly visible and self-satisfaction poured off him in waves. But as Jarkar held his hand out again, perhaps expecting Harry to accept his word and run to him, the ring upon Jarkar’s finger caught the light and flashed red.

“We can’t marry because I’m already promised to someone else.” The words flew out of Harry’s mouth before he had even thought the thought through. Ralec wanted to marry him and though Harry knew that this was a low blow and inconsiderate of Ralec’s feelings, he couldn’t marry the dwarf before him.  

“I’m afraid that you will have to break the engagement off. The contract has been signed.” Then Jarkar paused and his voice filled with contempt. “Unless, you are to be married to someone with a higher rank than me?”

Harry wanted to say Ralec’s name, but Jarkar’s confidence made Harry doubt that there were many in the mountain that outranked him. He knew that Ralec was rich but he didn’t know his rank or how much importance his name had. But he couldn’t keep his mouth closed, no matter how stupid his next words were going to be.

 

“The king, I’m to be married to the king.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married to the king?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, thank you all for the lovely comments!! I'm sorry, that I didn't reply to all of them but I was too busy with writing this baby. I figured that you much rather have an update so I hope that you can all forgive me ;P

 

Harry had always hated lying; not only was he undeniably bad at it, but it also always came back to bite him in the ass. He had panicked, which had lead him to lie and now he knew and dreaded what would follow. But this time, he had decided that he would not wait for the trouble to evolve because he would meet it head on.

Harry was walking or more like half-running down grand corridors, ignoring the stares that always followed him. He had to find Thorin before Jarkar did. Jarkar hadn’t believed him for more than ten seconds; undoubtedly, he had heard about Thorin and Harry’s first disagreeable meeting. And therefore, Harry had quickly excused himself before Jarkar could question him on his word.

Harry didn’t know where Thorin could be found around this time on the day; he had no clue as to what a king spent his time doing. He had gotten a head start on Jarkar but he was partly walking blind, and if Jarkar got to Thorin first, he would uncover Harry’s lie, and Harry didn’t doubt that that would have disastrous followings for him.

Thorin still owed him for cutting his hair and, though Harry hadn’t wanted Thorin to be in his debt, his kindness had only shed more shame on Thorin. This was Thorin and Harry’s chance to cut the taxing bond that had unwillingly been spun between them when they first met. At least, Harry hoped that Thorin would have a solution to his problem; he was the king after all.

But first, Harry had to find him. He was going towards the throne room, which he had never approached before, by following the markings on the walls. All the while he kept a lookout for Nori, or other familiar faces in the corridors, that could help him come into contact with the king.

Harry was so busy looking around the shadows, hoping to catch a glint of Nori, that he didn’t watch himself as he rounded the corner and bumped into the back of another dwarf.

“I’m so terrible sorry.” The words tumbled out as he stepped back from the other dwarf. “I didn’t watch where I was going.”

The other dwarf, a miner, Harry could see from the working clothes, which were as heavily layered with stone dust as the dwarf’s kind face.

“No matter, lad, I can see that you’re in a hurry. Where is the fire burning?”

“I’m looking to speak to the king.”

“Well, so are we all, laddie,” the dwarf said as he pointed a thick finger over his shoulder. That wasn’t an answer Harry had expected but he looked around the dwarf’s form to see what he meant. Dwarf after dwarf stood in line as far as Harry could see until the corridor took another turn. All of them citizens of Erebor with different standings in society; some miners like the dwarf before him, other noblemen in coloured silk and jewels.

“You’re all here to speak to the king?” Harry asked defeatedly, once more looking at the dwarf with the dirt-covered face. There was no way that Jarkar wouldn’t somehow get into contact with Thorin, before Harry even had made his way halfway through this line.

The dwarf cast him a sympathetic look and scratched his nose with a black finger. “These kinds of things usually take all day, but you know what? I wouldn’t mind letting you get a pass ahead of me, I’m not in a hurry like you.”

Harry stood completely still as the other dwarf moved around and behind him. “I can’t possibly just take your place. And however much I’m grateful for your kindness, I doubt that it will do me much good.”

The dwarf repaid Harry’s smile with a much brighter one. “Ay lad, I understand that you are in a hurry but one thing at a time. What do you say, Master Tyrigg?”   

Harry couldn’t even ask what the other dwarf meant before the dwarf next in line turned around to address them.

“I’m not otherwise in a hurry either. I will let you get a pass ahead of me as well.” And before Harry knew it, dwarf after dwarf let him take the spot ahead of them in the line. He only had a brief moment to thank the men and women, whom he didn’t know and who couldn’t know him, for letting him come forward in the long line of waiting dwarves.

Harry’s smile was radiant because of the kindness bestowed upon him and, unknowingly, that smile made the other dwarves more than willing to step aside so that they too could have that smile directed upon them. Before Harry knew it, he had left the corridor and passed the threshold into the throne room. 

He immediately became aware of the resonance of Thorin’s deep voice in the giant hollow hall. A hall that was nothing like he could ever have imagined a throne room to be. There was no floor, only four stone paths which lead up to the throne. And from the edge of the path, he could see nothing but darkness. Along the walls beside the path he occupied together with the other dwarven citizens, were giant stone warriors with helmets and axes. Everywhere else, the walls were open out to the surrounding corridors so that anyone could come and listen to the king’s advice and be present at royal activities. The other three paths were obviously used for a more private purpose. On each of them, guards in golden armour stood at attention, guarding their king who was seated in the middle of the room. Thorin was still too far away for Harry to make out, but he was getting closer.

Harry came past two more dwarves and he could begin to make out the details of the throne: From the ceiling hung an upside down mountain, like a huge stalactite, with rivers of gold running through it. It reached down and touched the top of the black throne, which was decorated with a golden pattern and a white glowing jewel.

But Harry’s attention quickly shifted towards the dwarf who was seated on the throne. There were only ten dwarves between them now, and Harry could easily see Thorin, who wore a golden crown upon his head, thick golden rings on his fingers, and royal blue clothes with a thick black pelt thrown around his shoulders.

Thorin had yet to notice Harry’s presence, his blue eyes were fixed upon the dwarf addressing him, but Dwalin had. Dwalin stood beside Thorin together with two other dwarves; an older white-haired one along with a much younger dwarf that resembled Thorin save for his golden blonde hair.

As Harry moved another space forward, Dwalin sent him a knowing smirk, but he didn’t do much else; obviously, he was patiently waiting for Thorin to notice him and for the show to unfold.

And as Thorin finished his speech and the dwarf before him bowed down in gratitude, the dwarves before Harry didn’t step forward but aside and then, blue eyes fell upon green.

“Harry?” Thorin rose from his throne in surprise. “What can I do for you?”

Suddenly, Harry doubted what cause of action he should take. There were so many people around them, he couldn’t just blurt things out in front of everyone and should he bow down first before he addressed Thorin? He chose not to as he stepped forward to the steps leading up to the raised podium.

“I know that this is a bad time and that I’m asking for a lot but could we please speak together somewhere more private, if possible?”

I didn’t seem that Harry had had any need to worry about his behaviour or his request.

“Of course, if you would just follow me, I can take us somewhere more private to discuss these matters.” While Thorin’s confusion was evident, Harry was relieved to see that he didn’t appear angry or irritated by his request, which made it much easier for Harry to step up beside Thorin.

“Frerin, I leave you to care for Erebor’s citizens in my stead. Dwalin, you will stay with him.” Before either Dwalin or the dwarf, Frerin, could protest, Thorin had with a carefully placed hand on Harry’s back, steered them down the path behind the throne lined with armed dwarves.

Thorin’s hand was an alien weight upon Harry’s back, not unpleasant but it still made Harry turn to face Thorin, as they walked, to make the hand fall away.

“I’m really sorry for the sudden interruption,” was all he could think to say at the moment.

“I could use the break,” Thorin answered with a wry grin, letting his arm fall back by his side. “I’m actually the one who should apologize to you for our last meeting. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Harry looked up from the black stone floor and was caught in Thorin’s blue eyes. Guilt immediately began to bloom in his lower belly. He couldn’t begin to imagine how much trouble he had caused Thorin and here Thorin was apologizing to him.

“It’s nothing, really, so don’t think anything of it; I clearly overreacted,” Harry answered quickly, unable to hold Thorin’s gaze any longer, and going back to starring at the floor. 

Thorin’s laugh was deep and warm, and Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks at the sound.

“I see no fault in your actions, Harry, the fault lies entirely with me. I spoke without thought, one of my less fine qualities. Would you not agree Balin?" Thorin enquired of the white haired dwarf that followed a little behind them.

“A quality, my king, I’m happy to say that you have almost mastered since the start of your rule.” The dwarf, Balin, spoke with mirth and Harry could immediately tell that the two dwarves were close friends. 

“Harry, let me introduce you to Balin, son of Fundin, and elder brother to Dwalin. He is the king’s adviser and I wouldn’t know what to do without him.

“You honour me, my king,” Balin said as he moved forward to walk with them. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry. I have only heard whispers and stories since the day of your arrival.”

Harry didn’t hide the grimace that came over his face. “Well, whatever opinion you have of me now, I can guarantee you that it won’t be better after this meeting.”

The glance shared between Thorin and Balin didn’t escape Harry. “When will we get there?” he asked, before any questions could be asked in the middle of the hallway.

“In here,” Thorin answered and pushed open a door to let Harry and Balin enter. A fire was burning in the far end of the room, which had four comfortable couches placed around a table before it, and a desk in the other end of the room. Along the walls hung shields, swords, spears, and other weapons as decorations; the light of the fire mirrored in the smooth surfaces of the metals and light flickered playfully around the room.  

“Let us hear what you have to say, Harry.” Thorin had chosen the couch in front of Harry’s, with Balin right beside him. Harry was silent for a moment as he faced the dwarves before him; they looked expectantly at him but were patient enough not to push when Harry hesitated.

“There’s no easy way for me to say this because I have done something terrible stupid and in my moment of stupidity I came to involve you as well, Thorin.” Harry looked directly into Thorin’s eyes and, even though he wanted to look away in shame, he didn’t. “I didn’t know what to do and while that is no excuse, I’m terribly sorry for what I did. But if you help me with this, could we consider this strain between us gone?”

Thorin’s gazed shifted for a moment a little further down Harry’s face, before he came to with a shake of his head and made contact with Harry’s eyes once more.  

“What did you do?”  

“I was on my way to the library,” Harry began. “Out of curiosity and interest I wanted to see it, but I was stopped in the hall by a dwarf named Jarkar.”

Both Thorin and Balin moved in their seats at the mention of Jarkar’s name. They were clearly disturbed by the name but they didn’t interrupt and Harry continued on.

“After seeing me, he thought that I was his lost fiancé, Roh. He asked if I could deny it, if I was certain my name was Harry since I can’t remember my past. He wanted to marry me, said that he had legal papers, and unless I was to marry someone of higher rank, we would be married. I was afraid, and I said that I was to marry you.”

“Me?” Thorin interrupted and Harry had to look away at Thorin’s shocked face. He wanted to beat himself over the head; there was no way Thorin would forgive him for this. Harry’s gaze flickered over to Balin, whose mouth simply hung open and Harry had to bury his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled quietly while learning further back in the couch in an impossible attempt to disappear into the cushions.    

“Harry, look at me.” Harry raised his head to look at the two dwarves before him. Thorin’s elbows were resting on his knees, his face calm while Balin had closed his mouth and looked to be lost in thought. “I don’t fault you for what you did and I will help you to the best of my abilities. We will fix this, Harry, I promise you.” Thorin spoke with such reassurance that a little smile broke loose from Harry’s lips, an expression Thorin soon mirrored.

“What is the plan, then?”

Harry looked expectantly at Thorin but it was Balin who answered,

“The plan is the only optional plan, you will have to marry.”

“What? No.”

Balin shifted uncomfortable in his seat at Harry’s outburst and cleared his throat before continuing,

“There is nothing else to be done. You said that you were promised to the king and if council member Jarkar does indeed have legal papers to your hand in marriage, you can only avoid him by marrying Thorin.”

“But I don’t want this, don’t you understand?” Harry spoke with rising anger, and a pointed finger at Thorin. “I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry at all, there has to be another way?”

Thorin kept awfully quiet, much to Harry’s frustration; why wasn’t Thorin protesting over this match together with him?

“It could be much worse,” Balin said with a strained smile. “You can’t do much better than a king, eh?”

Harry’s teeth grinded so hard together, that for a moment, he feared they would break under the force. Somehow he had thought that Thorin would be able to help him, but perhaps he had hoped for too much; things never turned out well when the two of them were in the same perimeter.

“But I will still be marrying against my will, which is exactly what I had tried to prevent in the first place. And I don’t care if he is the king, a council member, or a simple dwarf. Don’t you have anything to say to all of this?” he questioned Thorin. “I can’t imagine that this is what you want either, our past meetings haven’t exactly left fond memories behind.”

“I said that I would help you and this will help you, Harry, help both of us by clearing the strain that has been left since our first meeting. I know that this wasn’t what you had hoped for, but we will just have to get through it together.”

Harry rose from the couch and walked over to stand by the fire. He suddenly felt cold and not even the hot flames could fill him with warmth. He didn’t speak for a while and he was grateful that neither Balin nor Thorin attempted to start a conversation either.

 “Okay, okay,” Harry could hear himself say at last. “Let’s say that we get married; how long will we have to keep pretending before we can break things off?”

When he turned back around to hear the answer to his question, he caught a flash of hurt upon Thorin’s face before the dwarf could compose himself.

“I’m afraid that there’s no way to break it off.” And suddenly Harry didn’t just feel cold, he also felt very ill. Not only would he loathe marrying someone he didn’t love but he had also forced Thorin into this mess and, from Thorin’s hurt look before, Harry would guess that the king hated the idea as much as him.

Harry didn’t know why but the thought alone hurt.

“You will become my consort,” Thorin continued with an even, controlled voice. “I will tell my family about this tonight and tomorrow I will make a public announcement of our engagement. If anyone asks, we have been courting since not long after our first meeting, as we quickly realised that we were wrong about each other.”

Thorin rose from his seat and Harry watched carefully as he walked over towards him to take his hand in his. “Take this,” he said as he laid a ring in the palm of Harry’s hand, “and wear it always. It bears the symbol of my family, of yours.”

Harry’s fingers tingled with warmth where they met Thorin’s, but he pretended not to notice as he looked down upon the ring in his hand. A thick band made of a silver-white material, decorated with fine small runes. I was as simple as it was beautiful, and Harry didn’t doubt for a second, that he had never held anything as valuable before in his hand.      

“Thank you,” he mumbled, busy studying Thorin’s handsome face, as the dwarf slipped his old ring upon Harry’s left ring finger.

“I also want you to wear these.” And then Thorin removed three beads from his own hair and held them out for him to see: One was made of the same material as his ring and two was made of gold with emerald stones.

“May I?” Thorin indicated to Harry’s hair, and as Harry didn’t know how to place the beads on his own, he gave Thorin a nod in permission to touch his hair. Harry loosened the knot on the back of his head, which kept the locks from the front of his face away, as Thorin moved to stand behind him.

The fingers in his hair were gentle and careful not to pull to hard. It was a nice feeling; to have someone so close after he had been deprived of touch for so long. He missed the hugs and kisses he would share with his family and friends back home, for here he couldn’t share these small comforts without caution.

Halting himself from the depressing train of thought, a sudden revelation dawned on him. “What about heirs?”

“What about them?” sounded Thorin’s deep voice from behind him.

“I can’t give you any,” he said without further elaborations, and as he saw Balin’s confused look, he realised that his statement had been misunderstood.

“I mean I can, but I won’t. You can’t demand that of me.” 

Harry hadn’t realised that he had started shaking, not until two strong hands had taken hold of his shoulders and turned him around.  

“Harry, listen to me, I would never force you.” And Harry could only nod dumbly with Thorin’s face so close to his. He was caught by Thorin’s smell and the warmth that poured out of his blue eyes, unbothered by the hands stroking up and down his arms. But when Thorin made a small step forward, bringing them closer together, Harry had to back away. He settled himself, once more, upon the couch and raised a careful hand to his hair to analyse Thorin’s work.

The locks from each side of his face had been braided and gathered behind his head once more, with the two golden beads entwined in the braids. The silver bead had been place upon a lock of hair by his right ear. If this particular placement had a significant meaning, Harry couldn’t tell.   

“They look good on you,” Thorin said as he too took a seat.

“There is still so much I’m uncertain about,” Harry said ignoring Thorin’s comment. “I don’t know what is expected of me or how to act.”  

“We will help you every step on the way, don’t you doubt that, laddie,” Balin was quick to reassure with kind eyes and a smile hidden beneath thick white hair.

“What about my job? I just recently acquired a job as a private healer under the tutelage of Oin. Will I have to quit?” Harry hoped not. He loved his work and he would hate to stop because he would be too busy attending to other duties.

“I’m sure that we can arrange something to your liking,” Thorin said.

However, Balin was quick to add, “But as the king's consort you will also have other duties to attend to. You do not need to quit your healer training but you will have to realise that you, as the consort, won’t get to work as a healer.”

“I see. Then, I only have one question left for the moment.”

“And what is that, Harry?” Thorin asked with that deep voice of his that made it impossible for Harry to look anywhere else but at him.       

 

“What will happen now?”


End file.
